


Wishmaker

by Eloritia



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note: Another Note
Genre: AU, Angst, Character Death, Detective, Hurt/Comfort, Psychology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 33,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloritia/pseuds/Eloritia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>L remains alive thanks to an intervention of greater forces, however a sudden twist of events gives everyone surrounding him an opportunity to correct reality. What wishes, connected to L, are kept in the heads of people close to him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Исполнитель желаний](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/126528) by Depressive Maniac. 



> Alright, so I was following this story for /quite/ some time and after (quite frequent) bursts of excitement to my friends whenever it was updated, I decided that it would be interesting to translate this fanfic. It's huge. It's really huge okay. It picks up somewhere after chapter 10 or something like that. I got permission for translation and publishing so all good there. 
> 
> Okay so these two lovely people helped me to edit after my brain was fried from actual translation  
> rotted-strawberries.tumblr.com - Lbae  
> beyond-the-case.tumblr.com - kira
> 
> the names are there just in case I address them in later notes you know who i am speaking about lmao.

“Shini-” Ryuzaki’s voice broke off, and changed to a muted whisper, “-gami…”

Light, as if everything turned into slow motion film, saw how the teaspoon, just a moment ago held with stubborn fingers, slowly fell to the floor. The body of his main enemy lost the capability to hold itself upright and started to tilt to the side. Overtaken by a sudden impulse, Light lunged forward and caught Ryuzaki’s body in the air, not letting it hit the floor. The pain in that shoulder, the shoulder which took the fall of two bodies on itself, spread in a sharp wave across his body. But Light’s mind didn’t pay it any attention. He was looking into the eyes of his opponent, surprised and still not realizing that this was it—it had finally happened! The main goal had been accomplished. The enemy was defeated and his heart was counting out its last beats.

In Ryuzaki’s eyes were loss and pain, which slowly changed into understanding and quiet sadness. He laid so comfortably in Light’s arms, that it seemed like he came to terms with the unavoidable and was ready to leave this world in the arms of his best friend… friend? No, you can’t fool Ryuzaki. And he didn’t come to terms with anything. He was staring at him, trying in the last second to solve where he went wrong, where he made the unforgivable mistake. Light felt like even at that moment, L was calculating the percentage of Light being Kira. Certainly by that point it was at a hundred percent.

_‘My victory. My full and unquestionable victory!’_ The sudden realization of that fact made Light rejoice. He triumphed. He had won. Light couldn’t hold back a smirk. He nearly felt the actual taste of victory. The wonderful, heady taste…

Ryuzaki saw his smirk. Managed to see it with the dimming consciousness. In the huge sad eyes moved a veil of disappointment…but in that same moment his sight turned matte, unseeing, directed into eternity. His time was up. Eyelids, adorned with long black eyelashes, started to slowly close, giving eternal rest to the restless, always carving new puzzles soul. 

That’s when Light felt it. Felt, like as if stabbed by a sharp needle of understanding, that something horrible, irreversible was happening. Something awful that he wouldn’t be able to fix. He felt it literally with every fiber of his being, how the warming light dies and he is being enveloped in a dark, ice cold wave of loneliness. That loneliness that was his trusty companion throughout his whole life. His coldness and alienation from everyone. From the whole world. Emptiness. Emptiness which he suddenly stopped feeling the first time he heard L. Only at that moment did the God of the New World realize that he was losing the only soulmate he ever had. The only person with whom he could feel alive. His only worthy opponent, who he happily got by getting into this deadly game. The best conversationalist. The one with whom he lived chained to for so long, that being near was something that was normal and to be expected. The one who caused curiosity with his mere existence, quiet, calm voice, weird habits and unexpected conclusions.

Smothering wave of pain and gentleness covered Light. With a part of his consciousness the delayed surprise of how little Ryuzaki actually weights, comes. How nice it is to hold him in his arms and look at his face, which is framed by black strands of stubborn hair.  And… Kira’s face turned into a frozen mask, with a victorious smirk on his lips and the horror of realization in his eyes.

Ryuzaki’s eyes are closed now. Kira’s palm felt the last beat of L’s heart under his ribs, which were easily felt on his bony body. With his last breath escaping him and his lips gently parted, L could almost have been sleeping, it seemed.

“Ryuzaki, no!” Light’s scream seemed alien to him. “Ryuzaki, breathe, breathe, do you hear me?!”

Light filled his lungs with air and pressed his lips against Ryuzaki’s, breathing out. Quickly rising, Light’s body knowing what and how to do it. Light’s courses on emergency first response, which, like everything else the best student of Japan, passed with flying colors, taken long ago were finally used. Palm on the chest, a little bit above the solar plexus, other on top of it, rhythmic presses—one, two, three… Breathe in again, press his lips to the pale, bluish lips, give some oxygen to the collapsed lungs, press again—one, two, three.

“Come on, Ryuzaki!” Light performed CPR on his sworn enemy, trying to bring back the one who he dreamed to put to death. “Breathe, I am begging you, breathe!”

He didn’t notice the chaos happening around him. Slowly all the present there understood what happened. Screams of “Ryuzaki, what’s wrong with you?” and “What happened?” changed to “Kira! We are next!” from Matsuda and “Someone, call the ambulance!” from the Chief. Light did the CPR, not noticing how slowly the silence overcame the room. 

The air, so he could breathe for himself, was catastrophically lacking and his vision kept going black for brief flashes. His mind was buzzing with unconnected and seemingly mad thoughts. Ryuzaki’s pale face, bluish lips, and splayed out black strands… No, Light wasn’t going to give up. If Ryuzaki couldn’t breathe himself, he’d breathe for him. For as long as it was needed. And a bit more.  Light wouldn’t let death take L, wouldn’t let it win and make L leave him.

“Don’t you dare leave, Ryuzaki! I won’t let you!” The scream bounced off the walls.

“Light… That’s enough.” Soichiro’s hand lowered on Light’s shoulder. “I am afraid he is beyond help now.”

“Don’t touch me!” Light threw his father’s hand off, his voice breaking. “Don’t you dare distract me!”

Light didn’t notice the tears. Angry tears, tears of despair. At that moment he didn’t think about Kira, the new world, or about his burning desire to come out a winner from the deadly game of two geniuses and see the death of the defeated enemy. He was fighting death itself and trying to save something new that was born in Light’s soul in the last moments of the detective’s life. Something that would leave forever if he stopped even for a second. 

“Breathe! Damn it…” Another exhalation into other’s lips. Light hit on Ryuzaki’s chest in the area of the heart, risking to break the ribs. But it didn’t really matter for Ryuzaki at that moment,  whether or not he had all of his ribs.

“Fucking genius, breathe!” The voice was breaking with little sobs of despair. “Breathe, breathe, breathe!” Another breath and more blows...


	2. In The Shinigami World

The shinigami king, surrounded by a crowd of his subjects, was continuously watching the mirror. In the crowd of Shinigami, watching the unusual show, chuckles and sarcastic remarks were let out. The end was unusual, and… intriguing. This spectacle of two uncompromising enemies, one of which was now trying to in vain resurrect the other, was captivating.

“Yes, Ryuk was right, with this Kira you can never guess what he’ll do next!”

“No, but did you see how he destroyed Rem? I can’t believe it—a human killed a God of Death.”

“More importantly—how easily”

“Yes, yes, this mortal can really surprise you. If I was Ryuk I wouldn’t leave his side either.”

“That’s true. He really lightened up our boredom. Just look at that, trying to save an enemy who he just killed. I can’t understand it!”

Shinigami were buzzing with excitement. For the first time in centuries, their boredom was elevated. Ryuk, who invited them to watch the finale of the game of “his human”, was, to be honest, also quite surprised at the sudden turn of the events at first. But now he was sitting quite proudly, surrounded by the crowd, pompous and important. He was proud of Light, like a rare, exotic pet. Deep inside he was a little bit frightened by how easily and gracefully Light lead Rem to her death, however, he preferred not to succumb to that prick of uneasiness, concluding that he is fully in control of the situation. Aside from that, today he could lift the king’s boredom and that, in his memory, happened only two or three times before. Ryuk was rather pleased and hoped for a little reward… Maybe even another Death Note for his use… Rem didn’t need hers anyway.

“This is brilliant.” A coarse voice spoke up from the right of the shinigami king. “It’s sad that the detective’s time is running out. As soon as Kira stops, he’ll realize that his opponent’s brain is dead. Really sad, it was really interesting to watch them.”

“Did you notice how long he is keeping him there?” The shinigami sitting to the left spoke up. “If not for his efforts, the detective would be long dead. Hmm, how long until he gives up?”

“Yes..” said the king. “Surprisingly interesting mortal subjects. Sadly, they are only interesting when they are opposing one another. By himself, Ryuk, your Light doesn’t have any value…”

Ryuk, just a second ago sitting on a pedestal of fame, felt how his rank was rapidly falling in the eyes of the other shinigami. From all over the crowd, creatures who were looking at him just a moment ago with slight jealousy, began to chuckle.

“However,” the king drew the words out lazily. “This mortal deserves a reward. It has been a long time since humanity has entertained me. Ryuk, fly down and get Rem’s notebook. Just hurry. I have a fun idea.”

The king had an idea! Intrigued, Ryuk descended to the human world in the blink of an eye, pulled the note out of the sand pile, which was all that was left of Rem, and hurried back up. He had the thought of visiting the next room to see Light and let out a few more sarcastic remarks, but he pushed it aside easily. The king wouldn’t be happy that he was kept waiting for someone else’s amusement.

“Let’s see…” mumbled the king, taking the notebook from Ryuk. The shingami crowd gathered closer to their king, trying not to miss even a single movement. “Oh, quiet down, don’t push!”

The king opened the notebook on the last page with the writing ‘L Lawliet’.

“This detective has a really strange name. One letter,” hissed someone from the crowd.

“Hmm, I see,” the king replied thoughtfully.

After that, he slowly stroked the page with his shrunken, covered in strange, grey growth hand, completely erasing the name written on the page. The crowd of shinigami gasped. They knew king’s ability to change what was written, but not once in all of their existence had they seen it used. A true historic event was happening right there in front of their eyes. Not once had a mortal ever earned such an interest from the king, to cause him to get involved in their fate.

“Lets see now..” With a chuckle, the shinigami king spoke up, “how our precious mortal takes the resurrection of his arch enemy. Humans are so funny and so hasty in their wishes. These two will humor us some more. Make your bets, who will kill who the next time!”

The crowd of shinigami erupted in excited shouts. Some gods instantly started arguing over which one of these funny mortals would die first again. The king of shinigami looked rather satisfied. It had been a long time since his kingdom, enveloped in eternal boredom, had this kind of fun and excitement.

“Catch!” The king threw the now unowned notebook to Ryuk. “You’ve earned it.”

“I am grateful, my king.” Ryuk caught the notebook in the air, having a hard time believing that he finally did get the long awaited reward.


	3. Everything isn't as Easy

Pressing against the now bluish lips and exhaling again, trying to bring back to life the one who he just killed with his own hands, Light felt just how cold were Ryuzaki’s lips were. But his efforts were futile. Warmth was leaving the body of the detective.

“Don’t you dare leave!” Light brought another blow down on Ryuzaki’s chest, feeling how the ribs  bent dangerously under his palms, striving to wake up him up, to start the frozen heart once more.

His strength was running out. He couldn’t fight anymore.

Suddenly, pale lips twitched, letting in a desperate breath. His chest barely fluttered, so slight that if Light’s palm wasn’t laying on it, he wouldn’t have felt it. He could hardly believe it. This was impossible...

“Ryuzaki…” Light whispered, still dizzy with the lack of oxygen. Was it possible that L, who had been killed with the notebook, was taking his first independent breath? Could it be a mirage created by an alarmed, shocked consciousness, striving to see what can’t really happen? Logic mercilessly told him that this was just a mirage. He was going insane from this stress. His will left Light, and he let his arms fall to his sides, keeping himself upright on his knees beside the body of his defeated enemy. There were no more tears. There was nothing left.

“Step away, let the doctor through!” Someone else’s authoritative voice spoke up behind him.

A group of medics were pushing past members of the task force, hurrying to get to the body laying on the floor. Powerful hands grabbed Light by the shoulders and dragged him away from the precious body, moving him away, and placing him in his father's arms. Light didn’t struggle this time. He didn’t have the strength to. His head was buzzing and hazy, making it hard to think clearly. It was as if everything he saw was slow motion footage. Like through a veil he saw how two medics, opening up their cases, lowered themselves on both sides of Ryuzaki. Another two ran after Matsuda out of the main room. ‘Ah right…Watari…’, suddenly popped up in Light’s head. ‘They don’t need to hurry.’ Then the depressing realization hit. Somewhere on the side, the fifth of the group, probably the head, was asking Mogi some questions. Light didn’t hear what. He didn’t care. Father was holding him by his dropped shoulders, but Light didn’t even think of struggle. The feeling of emptiness and helplessness covered him completely.

“Threadlike pulse.” The serious passionless voice could be heard through the veil. “Intravenous adrenalin.”

Pulse? Pulse!!! It was like a strike of lighting. With wide eyes, he jerked forward, but his father held him back.

“Don’t. No need to distract them. He is in the good hands now,” he said gently, holding his son back. “If it’s possible they’ll pull him out.”

Soichiro Yagami was feeling conflicting feelings. Despite the tragic moment, he was feeling growing relief and happiness for his son. In the critical moment he was the only one who didn’t lose his head and didn’t run around with useless questions, but professionally was giving emergency help to the hurt. Soichiro was always proud of his son’s achievements, but for some time now that feeling was dampened by understanding that despite all of his successes, and maybe heightened by them, his son grew out to be a complete egoist. Alienated, lonely, locked in himself. On a stage by himself, unreachable for others’ height. Always polite, thinking clearly and precisely, and acting only rationally. Light didn’t get close to anyone, despite that he was always surrounded by people who were ready to give him their loyal friendship. Only acquaintances, only classmates, all simply needed for something people surrounded Light. That scared Mr. Yagami. That’s why he was happy inside, watching the birth of warm feelings of the famous detective and his son. It’s true that Light had to go through difficult tests, which Ryuzaki put him through, but the Chief couldn’t help but notice how, when chained together, two absolute egoists started to make compromises for each other’s sake, learn to socialize, listen to other’s opinions, and learn to think about each other’s comfort. Ryuzaki was possibly even a bigger egoist, in that Mr. Yagami didn’t have any doubt. However, the detective’s lifestyle called for these laws of life. Take for example the constant danger for his life and the need to stay behind aliases. But his son… His son was really worrying. The chief, angry at himself, time after time asked himself, watching the cold, arrogant expression of his first son’s face—was there anything left in his soul for empathy? Won’t Light step over him, needing help, passing by? What was happening in the soul of his perfect, but narcissistic and egoistic son?

Today he got his answer. An answer which pushed off the heavy weight of worry off his shoulders. His son, his pride, his hope, was capable of deed. Deed. Was capable of selflessly, not worrying about his own life, giving himself completely to the urge to save someone else’s life. And it was only because of his son that doctors were still working on Ryuzaki’s body, instead of putting him on a stretcher and covering his face with a white sheet. Soichiro, embarrassed by himself, was triumphing in his heart. Because of that, he was gently holding Light and his voice was soft and gentle.

“Stabilized,” one of the medics said loudly, gathered above Ryuzaki, as he rose up. “Transport him.”

“Stabilized?!” Light jerked forward again, breaking away from his father.”He is alive? Alive?! Uh...” Light’s gaze stumbled upon still pale, dispassionate Ryuzaki’s face.

The man’s eyes were still shut. Lips were still tinted blue. He didn’t move. Seemingly didn’t breath. Not one muscle twitched on his face.

“Everything isn’t that easy, pal,” one of the medics told him, voice tired as he moved him aside and turned to the stretchers. “His pulse is stable, but that’s not all. We are driving him to reanimation. At any given moment his heart can stop again. Despite that, the probability that his brain is long dead is huge.” He looked at Light with sympathy, then moved his gaze to Soichiro. “I am saddened to say this, but prepare for the worst. The chances are too low.”

As if behind a glass wall, Light watched how the medics picked the body up and with a count of “one-two-three,” put him on the stretchers. How powerlessly the pale face was thrown back, how  the strands, disturbed by the sudden movement, swayed and dangled. At that moment, on the stretcher, Ryuzaki looked surprisingly fragile, seemingly melting and disappearing from this world. The medics put his hands up and wrapped the body up with practiced motions, then buckled up the belts. They picked the stretcher up and ran past the stunned Light, carrying away the most precious, most dear, only opponent; his only worthy enemy, his only… friend? Light, without the will to move, or say a word, watched them leave.

The head medic walked up to his father and him, finishing finding out what happened from Mogi.

“Yagami-san? We are driving your co-worker to reanimation. You can’t go with us in the car, but if you want, you can come to the hospital by yourself. However, I wouldn’t recommend that. Your son needs rest and quiet.” With a sigh he looked over at Light. “Your bravery deserves admiration. Your dad should be proud.”

“Thank you.” The self control he had kicked in and the habit of playing a role in any situation worked its deed.

Light nodded, closing his eyes on a habit, hiding his emotions. Worthy of admiration and pride, the son of a wonderful man, shyly acknowledged his deeds. But in reality he was shaking inside. There was an urge to wail and beat the wall with his fists and head. In his head, as if a  record was stuck playing the same phrases over and over ‘his brain is long dead… huge probability… chances are too low…’ Beside him the second group of medics walked by, carefully carrying another stretcher and another body. After them, with an empty face, followed Matsuda. He would’ve walked by, but the elder Yagami stopped him by the sleeve.

“Matsuda! What’s with Watari?”

“Doctors said minor heart attack. He lost consciousness and hit his head on the fall.” Matsuda’s voice was monotone. “They say that he should recover soon.” He got quiet, sucked in more air and, with resolve, exhaled. “And… Ryuzaki?”

“Still alive.” Quickly spoke up Mogi. But instantly sulking, added: “But they say chances are extremely low.”

“Ryuzaki will get through this,” Aizawa, previously silent and standing on the side, spoke up. “I am sure in his stubbornness, he just can’t just not climb out.”

Light watched the scene with a sense of detachment. For a moment it seemed that there were traces of tears in Aizawa’s eyes. ‘Really?’ The thoughts were lazy feeling. ‘And he hated him while he was alive…’ From this thought his chest tightened and responded with pain. Light shook his head. ‘Don’t you dare to think like that. He is still alive. He’ll get through this. He really is the most stubborn and persistent genius on the planet.’ For a second it got easier, but then the record played again ‘brain dead… probability is huge…’ and his heart hurt again. He needed to get ahold of himself. Distract himself. He couldn’t do this otherwise. Because he is God, God of the New World. And he… won. But the sole person who could really appreciate his victory was being carried out on the stretcher, put into the back of a car and possibly driven away for eternity. Feeling like he would really would just drop, start crying and roll around on the floor, Light turned to the head doctor, who was ready to leave after his colleagues.

“Listen… sorry, I don’t know your name.. That guy, Ryuzaki… We are friends. I want to come with you!”

“It’s not worth it.” The doctor shook his head. “And we don’t have the space in the car anyways. Here, this is the address of the hospital. If you want you can come by yourself. No need to hurry. You can’t help your friend anymore and waiting in the hall won’t help you. You really did all that you could.”

Shoving the business card of the hospital in Light’s hand and looking his over with sympathy once more, the doctor left. The Task Force was left alone with a nearly physical silence. What happened was pressuring, not letting a conversation start. Making any word useless and senseless. They all needed time to think things over and understand what just happened.


	4. Mess of Thoughts

Bright lights suddenly turned on. The power system was back online. As if all that horror they had lived through, was nothing but a short dream, one of these which you see closer to the morning and those which leave a heavy, sticky feeling of terror. But only the absence of a weird guy with messy black hair and the ringing, depressing emptiness, were clearly pointing out the reality of the event. Words were unnecessary. For all present it was obvious that Kira finally got to L and the rest just avoided the same fate by accident.

“Well…” started the Chief and coughed a bit. He, just like the others, didn’t want to say anything. However, he felt he was the authority here and the most responsible. It was necessary to get the situation under control. “I think that all of us understand what just happened.”

“Kira killed Ryuzaki and Watari!” shouted Matsuda. ”And we couldn’t stop it!”

“It’s most likely that Kira killed L,” Light’s voice sounded monotone, calm and disinterested. He was standing a bit turned to everybody else, head down. His bangs covered his eyes. It looked that Light was in control of himself again. “However, Watari, we believe, just had a minor heart attack. But only lost his consciousness. The stress of the past days finally did its work, probably. He was really scared for him. I speculate that, while blacking out, he managed to delete all the files like he promised Ryuzaki.”

“But Ryuzaki isn’t dead yet! Doctors said that, even though the chance is low, he is still in there,” said Mogi. ”But if it’s Kira…”

“Then there is no hope. Kira kills for sure. Not one of the criminals survived, despite that many died around people and those people tried to help them,” Matsuda finished quietly.

The silence returned. Members of the Task Force looked over at Light, with some unexplained guilt. Light, however, was persistently looking at the floor. His thoughts kept buzzing around in his head, not wanting to form concise phrases to let him think of how to correctly speak and what to do. It was impossible to concentrate under the task force’s eyes. He needed to be alone.

“Dad,” Light raised his head, and looked at his father, ignoring the others. “I believe that we need to go to the hospital. If Watari wakes up he’ll need our support. He doesn’t have anyone else here.”

“Right!” Matsuda supported the idea with renewed enthusiasm, jumping on the opportunity to do something instead of just standing there under the pressure of the event that had just occurred. “We need to support Watari. Ryuzaki can wake up too! Doctors did say that he has a chance!”

“I agree. Light and I will drive to the hospital. You should remain in the headquarters. Try to figure out if it’s possible to restore the deleted data. Maybe there is a backup.” Mr. Yagami took the command with quite obvious relief.

“Give me five minutes,” requested Light. “I’ll clean myself up then we’ll go.”

After his father’s response, he left the main room. He wanted to bolt out of the room, but he didn’t let himself. His self control was now completely back. His head cleared up and it was working like a powerful computer, trying to work over all the information. ‘Something went wrong,’ Light thought as he walked out of the room, ‘something obviously went wrong. Why didn’t he die after the 40 seconds? Did the Death Note not work? Impossible. Everything went according to plan. Rem’s absence is proof to that. But why didn’t he fucking die!? Oh god, maybe he did die…’ His thoughts got broken up again, making Light stop in the middle of the hallway. ‘Maybe Ryuzaki did die.’ This thought made it hard to breath again and Light had to stop to clear his mind up once more. He tried to throw the feeling of the light, bony body on his hands out of his head. He was trying to stop licking his lips as he thought of how he had felt the slightly sweet taste of someone else’s lips over and over again.

‘Damn! What is wrong with me?!’ He groaned quietly. ‘The notebook. I need Rem’s note. I need to get my own Death Note. Also I can figure out what she wrote in it. Maybe the answer will come up by itself.’ He looked around the hallway, trying to guess which room Rem would choose to perform the last sacrifice for her human love in. Guessing the correct door, Light opened it and saw the pile of sand. No notebook.

‘No one from the task force could’ve taken it.’ He frowned, crouching beside the pile of sand and taking some into his hand, simply to let the grains sip through his fingers. ‘So this is a shinigami. Maybe because of that Ryuzaki didn’t die…didn’t die immediately, anyway. But shinigami don’t get involved with humans’ lives. Could it be that the rules changed?’ Light shook his hands off. ‘Anything could’ve happened. If the rules changed, it’s awful for me. My notebook is under uninterrupted police surveillance. I can use Misa’s notebook, but that really limits my possibilities. I need my own notebook. Fuck, where is Rem’s note?’ Getting up, Light looked over the room once more. ‘I could kill Misa and take ownership of the note. My goal is worth any sacrifices. Anyone can be cast aside for it. Even Misa, though I… Hmm... I kinda got used to her already. However that is not necessary. After today’s fight for Ryuzaki’s life, nobody from the headquarters will dare to suspect me. Which is to say, that maybe everything is for the best.’

The last thought nearly made Light nauseous. For some reason an image of how Ryuzaki’s eyes looked while he was standing under the rain on the rooftop came to mind. His fingers twitched again as the loneliness and the helpless feeling came over him again. ‘Damn it, what is wrong with me?!’ Light nearly said it aloud. ‘What did you do to me, you fucking genius, that I can’t even think straight anymore?!’

* * *

Light sat in the long hallway of the hospital, leaning forward with his hands on his knees and wrists crossed. He was waiting to be let into Ryuzaki’s room. There was nothing left to do but wait and think. The game was paused. Or possibly ended.

Half an hour ago he was standing above a hospital bed, visiting Watari, who was awake. The doctor let them have five minutes of visitation. “Let them” because otherwise he couldn’t do it. The old man couldn’t take the uncertainty and the absence of the familiar hunched over figure beside the bed. All of the five minutes, Soichiro and him were lying, trying not to cross gazes with the full of pain eyes of the elder man. Noticing how quickly a pair of tears escaped them. Light felt suffocated, uncomfortable in front of these eyes. Never before had he seen eyes with so much pain, that it was as if they were screaming.

They were lying, trying to give him false hope, trying to save the old man and push back that moment when he finds out what they heard from the doctor, who was coming out of the reanimation room.

“Ryuzaki fell into a coma. A very deep coma. Unfortunately, all we can do is wait and support his life processes. There were incidents before when patients came out of this condition in… uh… a short time.”

“And there were others?” Light didn’t want to let his question sound sarcastic, but at that moment it was hard to control his emotions.

“Well, quite often, patients don’t come out of it for years, dying without waking up. But I repeat,” doctor’s voice became firm, “that cases of successful awakenings have happened and aren’t all that unique.”

“But something is bothering you? You did the examination, did it show anything?” Soichiro caught the slight hesitation in the doctor’s voice.

“Yes, we did the tests. He is rather healthy. There are certain deviations from the norm, but we didn’t find any clue as to why his heart stopped. It’s strange. Of course, we will continue the inspections to find the cause. But whatever happened, he survived clinical death. Technically he was dead for 20 minutes.” Doctor shook his head sadly. “There are known cases of patients coming back after 10 minutes of clinical death without any consequences, however they are extremely rare and written about in the extreme details. In most cases brain death happens after 4-5 minutes and life-support after that is useless.” He paused. “Besides that, his body is exhausted and underweight. I am afraid intravenous nutrition at this level is going to shorten the chances even more. We can only wait. If his brain was damaged and to what extend, we can only find out if he comes out of the coma. Let’s hope that his body will survive. Prepare to be patient.”

All that they didn’t tell Watari, trying to get away with vague, senseless phrases. But he didn’t believe them. Only tiredly closed his eyes and the nurse in the room immediately asked them to leave the room.

Soichiro left to find out technical questions about the patient’s time in the hospital and Light had nothing else to do but wait for when he’d be let into Ryuzaki’s room. He himself didn’t exactly know what he wanted to see; look over the defeated enemy once more and find some cause for hope, that they haven’t ended everything yet. Thoughts were in the sticky fog again, not wanting to process like usual. For some reason he really wanted to touch Ryuzaki again, to feel the warmth of his body. ‘What happened to me? Am I…pitying him? No, this is something else. I miss him. I already miss him! I got used to him?!’ Probably for the first time in his life, Light was lost. He couldn’t figure out his emotions. Time after time he would think over the events that occurred in the last few hours: their conversation in the rain, the feeling of something important that could’ve been said. But wasn’t. And then… The light touches of Ryuzaki’s hands on his feet-why did he give him a massage? It was really nice, but why? Wanted to admit defeat and pay tribute to the victor? Wanted to say goodbye? Tried to leave something warm in Light’s memory instead of just constant suspicions? Only questions. Light was nearly completely sure that Ryuzaki understood everything. Felt everything before it came. He talked about the ringing of the bells, did he really hear it or was there desperation of the doomed behind that phrase?

In conversations with Ryuzaki, all the words had a different meaning, secret implications, every phrase had double and sometimes triple meanings. Any conversation could turn into an intricate weave of sounds, hiding a trap behind themselves. Talking to him… was fascinating. Like walking above an abyss. You couldn’t make any wrong step, or show any weakness. Light got used to seeing a dangerous enemy in Ryuzaki, a cunning and intelligent enemy, one which was capable of immediately obliterating him, if he allowed even one tiny mistake. An enemy which was possibly even more sly than Light. That’s why he was so aspired to bring him down, even him with the ground and come out as a victor from this game. Earn the victory worthy of God. But today he saw L differently… There was a humble sadness in the detective’s eyes, strange looks, sorrow… and was such a light, compliant body in Light’s arms. For the first time he felt that his opponent was vulnerable. Too vulnerable. So much that he really could die. That he could just stop being near... L used his vulnerability to inflict a crushing blow to Kira. A move which the God of the New World couldn’t predict and defend against. And now he couldn’t recover from it. Could it be that L foresaw this forbidden move and was asking forgiveness for it? For his death? For leaving Light alone? He was… pitying him?

“Nonsense,” grumbled Light aloud and shook his head. All of this was nonsense created by the stress. Light was a normal human, and seeing death was a natural shock. Exactly because of that his head was full of these strange thoughts. Thoughts unworthy of the God. He wanted L’s death. He won. He had removed the obstacle from his way. Now nothing would prevent him from building his own new world. Nothing and no one.

The only thing left was to look upon his unfortunate opponent for the last time and move on. Leaving L to slowly die on the hospital bed, which, most likely, he wouldn’t ever be able to get up from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so by doing some simple math I realized that to just catch up to the current point in the fanfic it will take us a bit more than a year if I do Monday updates. Which I don't really want to happen. So I am planning to actually start doing two updates a week. DEPENDING on if the chapter is out and checked on Wednesday. So if the chapter is completely ready by Wednesday its out. If not we wait for Monday.


	5. Taste of Victory

He was finally allowed to enter. The room which they put Ryuzaki in was light and rather big. Too light. His eyes hurt from the blinding whiteness, which left the impression of cleanliness and freshness.  Even the sad, grey sky and rain on the other side of the huge window did nothing to disturb the impression.

Light noticed that the cubicle was obviously for VIP patients. Doomed VIP patients. Everything in the room was pointing to it: the huge number of different screens, showing everything, from pulse and blood pressure to body temperature and breathing rate. There was a partitive defibrillator on the moving table with several drawers, which were surely filled with tools to help patients out of a critical condition. There was also a comfortable leather couch against the wall with light, matte leather and two armchairs with the same tone. Between them was a small coffee table. Opposite to the couch was a flat screen TV hanging on the wall. Everything was thought out, even to the minor details, to make the waiting ill-fated’s relatives as comfortable as they could be. Only, the patient who was in this room right now didn’t have any relatives. And the only close person to him really needed care for himself at that moment.

The bed was placed along the window and was rather wide. It could easily fit two people. But right now there was only Ryuzaki, forever alone and detached from everything. It didn’t matter to him, how lonely his scrawny body looked in that huge room, covered to the chest with a snow white blanket. Honestly, nothing mattered to L then, because he didn’t think about anything, didn’t feel anything. He was in coma. A very deep coma.

“Could you leave me alone for a bit?” Light asked the nurse who went in with him. “I would like some time alone with him.”

“Of course.” She agreed quickly, however she obviously didn’t hurry to leave, instead starting up a conversation. “You know, you could talk to him. It’s considered to help.”

“Yes, thank you, I read about that.” Light’s voice was soft and calm, and he found it nice to be able to just charm people passing by. However, at that moment, he didn't have time for his ego. “Unfortunately I don’t much time, I have to get back to work…”

“Oh, of course, I understand…” She was obviously embarrassed as she hurried out of the cubicle.

Light walked up to the bed, for the first time having an opportunity to examine the details of his enemy without needing to hurry. Ryuzaki’s deathly pale face, framed by pitch black hair, seemingly blended in with the white pillow. He was dressed in a simple white hospital gown and in any other circumstances he would probably look comical in it. But now he looked miserable. Light frowned, continuing to look over the helpless body. Wires, tubes with oxygen and IV. The needle looked especially cruel in the elegant bend of his elbow. Around the needle a small, barely noticeable, dark-blue bruise could be seen.

“Really now, the best hospital in Tokyo,” Light thought, irritated. “They couldn’t even put the needle in right.”

The skin on the back of Ryuzaki’s hand was completely white, near-transparent to a bluish tint of veins and vessels. Light kept angrily thinking that even he’d do it better and wouldn’t mess up the detective’s arm. That he’d have inserted the needle into L’s vein from the first try.

Giving into a sudden impulse, he lightly ran the tip of his finger across the defenselessly open area of the hand and stared closely at his face. Nothing changed. Black eyelashes didn’t twitch, eyes didn’t open wide from surprise at the sudden touch. The same detached face, pale with blue tinted lips. His breathing couldn’t be heard and if his chest did rise, then it was so little that these changes couldn’t be noticed by the simple eye. If not the beeping of cardiograph and the bumpy line crawling across the screen, Light would be sure that Ryuzaki finally had died.

“Sorry, L, you lost,” Light said aloud, gently looking into his opponent’s face. “Someone had to win. You played your side well, but I am stronger. I’ve always known that I am stronger.”

Silence. Light really wished that Ryuzaki could answer him. Really wanted him to admit his defeat. Or, that he could at least hear him. His stillness and detachment was saddening. Damping the triumph of the winner.

“You know,” continued Light after a small pause. “I am sad that I have to see you in this position. You deserve a more beautiful death. If I knew that this is how it will happen I wouldn’t hold you. I would try to preserve your pride. You were truly a strong opponent. You nearly cornered me.”

He leaned down and whispered right into the pale face, heatedly flashing his eyes, not even feeling how his lips curved into a cruel smirk.

“You lost, L. You can’t stand in God’s path. There is no place for those who don’t believe and aren’t ready to bow down in my new world! And yes—I am Kira!”

Breathing out what he was hiding for so long, what he dreamed to shout in his prosecutor’s face, Light straightened and stood silent for some time. Slowly his face relaxed, taking on his usual calm and reserved expression. The killer’s eyes stopped looking so cruel. Then he reached out to stroke the pale, hollow cheek.

“Goodbye, enemy,” Kira said sadly to the detective named L. “I won’t come again. I hope that you die quickly.”

He turned and slowly walked to the exit of the cubicle. Right before the door he did turn to look back and felt how his heart clench from the sight of the messy dark hair on the white bed in the middle of the huge room. His memory readily recalled the feeling of the warm body in his arms and the sweet aftertaste of L’s lips. Light forced himself to think that these memories he would be leaving there forever, in that hospital room, and, pulling the door shut behind him, quickly left. The door clicked shut behind him and he was sure that he would never return.

* * *

All night he was tossing in his bed at home, unable to sleep. Realizing that he was lacking something. Maybe the feeling of danger. Maybe the need to constantly think over this next move. Yesterday evening he had just watched the news without amusement, as usual noticing that Misa was punishing criminals. He didn’t need to inspect if she had made a mistake which could lead to him being Kira. Misa was already accustomed to this game. She wouldn’t make a serious mistake, and any insignificant one no one would have noticed anyway now. The only one who was dangerous enough to notice a wrongly phrased word now was in an eternal sleep, resting endlessly in a huge, snow-white room.

Misa called him after the news, trying to get a meeting. Light could clearly hear the excited tones in her voice and understood that she wanted to share the victory with him. That suddenly angered him. Like what happened was the fault of a lovestruck girl. Like Misa was the exact reason for his sudden depression. However, listening to his logic, he wasn’t cruel with her. On the other hand, he was rather gentle. Blaming the horrible stress of the past few days and the exhaustion it caused, he moved the date to the next evening.

In the morning he got to the headquarters with his father. It was necessary to continue the chase for Kira. Take the great detective’s place, according to the long-made plan. A plan which had turned into reality.

The headquarters were unusually quiet.  Even Matsuda greeted everyone quietly and dully. It seemed like he was really worried. Ryuzaki would probably be surprised that the team of detectives, which was working with him, had actually gotten so attached to him. While he was here no one really showed any warm feelings or sympathy for him. However, did he even need their sympathy? Always reserved, always detached, keeping his distance from everyone who wanted to get close. At the same time he’d gifted everyone around him some astonishing calmness, certainty and a feeling of warmth and comfort.

The chair which Ryuzaki used to sit in kept catching Light’s eye. The chair from which his limp body had helplessly slipped off of and onto the floor. The aura of emptiness and feeling of loss just rolled off of it. On the desk was a cup of unfinished coffee and a plate with an untouched donut. Since yesterday evening, nobody from the task force dared to touch either.

Feeling how his eyes had begun to water, and getting angry at himself for it, Light walked over to the desk with confident steps. He bumped into the chair and moved it away with obvious intent, then took the plate and cup, carrying them to the kitchen. He felt how the gazes of many dark eyes followed him, with their pupils dilated to impossible sizes. There was an urge to turn around and meet these anxious eyes, sarcastically raise his eyebrows, to let himself tower over the suspicions. But Light forced himself to keep going.

Going into the kitchen, he put the cup and the plate beside the sink, feeling a little prick of guilt about having Watari do the dishes. But he quickly reminded himself that the old man would get upset if someone would just barge into his place and start to behave like he is at home. Only once he reached the door did he remember that Watari wouldn’t be able to wash the dishes any time soon. He returned to wash the dishes and carefully dried them with the towel. However, more than anything he just watched the throw the elegant ceramic against the wall, to watch the shattered pieces fly everywhere. _‘I hate you, I hate you so much, Ryuzaki!’_ he wanted to scream.

There was a lot of work today. New Kira killings demanded detailed analysis, beside that it was necessary to make up the plan for further actions and investigation without L. Suddenly it was obvious that he, unnoticeably, eating sweets and speaking in short phrases, completely directed the whole process. They all had thought from time to time the said detective only gave out sudden, unexpected conclusions and exotic solutions, while the Japanese detectives were actually working on the case. Now, however, to their group surprise, it was obvious that not one of them knew what to do. The tactfulness with which Ryuzaki managed the task force was so smooth that nobody noticed how professionally the detective decided their roles, and how each action of each member of the team was just obeying the same plan, lead to the chosen goal, used as a piece of a puzzle which was patiently being solved by a shaggy-haired detective. This finding really hurt Light’s ego and added confusion to the other detectives.

The password recovery, even with Watari giving them the password, was taking a long time. It was, of course, an unpleasant surprise to find that part of the data which was on the server was locked down with another password, which they didn’t have. After a detailed inspection they figured out that they had all the data on the investigation which they had worked together on, but  the locked files were all the documents which were related to Ryuzaki’s personal notes, thoughts, and conclusions. To the plans on the investigation, which right now, in their depressed state, would be a priceless gift, letting them once more make a clear system for work. But no, Ryuzaki didn’t leave them any help. Even in this L hadn’t let them be close to him, this time by not letting them work with any of his personal files and documents. They were all closed, locked down, and, knowing Ryuzaki, not even the best detective would be able to hack into them.

The headquarters had a depressing aura. It was strongly felt that they were lacking a leader. A few times Matsuda had shouted, “Ryuzaki!” or “Listen, Ryuzaki!” while attempting to deal with the huge amount of information, forgetting Ryuzaki was gone, and it didn’t add optimism to the atmosphere. Mastuda himself got completely embarrassed and forced him to grow silent and not make any attempts to speak with anybody.

 _‘You would be satisfied right now, L,’_ Kira thought angrily as he looked through data. _‘The headquarters are finally quiet, no one is talking, no one is distracting. You, if I remember correctly, complained that you weren’t used to working surrounded by people and that it was hard for you to ignore the noise. Don’t you want to enjoy this silence?!’_

Light smirked over his own sarcasm, then immediately glanced, from behind his long eyelashes, to the left — had he noticed and would that cause suspicion?

His eyes met an empty chair. He didn’t even feel, instead he just heard how his teeth clenched together. Staying in the headquarters was unbearable. Light felt that over the past 24 hours his nerves were turned into tightly pulled wires. It seemed like Ryuzaki’s spirit was around somewhere, that everything, even the walls, computers and huge monitors were soaked in it and right now everything was pressuring, wailing from loneliness and despair, screaming from pain and that made it difficult, nearly impossible, to breathe.

“Dad, I am going to the clinic.” Pushing the keyboard away from himself, Light got to his feet. “To visit Watari and try to find out if he has passwords for the closed folders.”

“Great idea, we could really use the information hidden by Ryuzaki. He always planned and thought a few steps ahead and if we could use his data, we wouldn’t have to poke around like blind kittens. Besides Watari needs support right now. It must be very difficult for him right now. I don’t know what I’d feel if I were in his place.”

“Yes, Light, brilliant!” Ecstatic about an opportunity to speak again, Matsuda shouted. “If you don’t need me, Chief, I’ll go with Light! I also want to visit and support Watari.”

“No need.” Light said through his teeth, hiding his eyes behind his hand out of habit. “I think that it’s hard for Watari to take visitors. Let’s give him a few days to gather his strength and then we could go to him-all of us, even. But really, a micro heart attack is a serious injury for an old man.”

“You are right, Light.” Mr. Yagami said, in support of him. “Go alone and greet Watari, tell him how sorry we are about what happened, for us. As soon as he is strong enough, we’ll visit him. “

“Yes…alright. If that’s the case, then go by yourself, Light,” Matsuda agreed sadly.


	6. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? Wednesday update? No way. Actually yes way because I said I'd do this and I'm an impatient person who wants to catch up to the current point of the fic as quickly as possible.

Light felt very uneasy on the streets. He tried to remember when was the last time he moved like this, alone, without Ryuk behind his back, without Ryuzaki’s constant gaze on him, and realized that since that moment it was more than half a year. That strange feeling of unreality didn’t leave him. It was like he had returned from a long trip and his hometown had completely changed. Or as if he was dropped into a parallel world and just can’t get used to it. The low grey sky hung above the city, people moved everywhere, brushing shoulders with Light, talking and laughing. Light felt invisible. No one cared what he thought about, where he was going and what he was going to do. He, Kira, God of this world, wasn’t needed by anyone and was uninteresting. For some reason he wanted to hide somewhere in a dark corner and sit there, curled up from the terror of his sudden loneliness. Like an ill timed joke his mind gave him a memory from his childhood, when he was reading about a deep sea fish—they were so used to living in the dark deeps and adapted to the colossal pressure, that they immediately died if fishermen brought them up in their nets with the usual catch. This memory struck with a sudden accuracy of the comparison. Light felt that he was like a deep-water fish, suddenly drug to the surface, dying from the lack of the usual pressure. Light had no one to hide from. No one to fear. No one to talk to. The thought of going to Misa and writing down a couple dozen criminals into the note, working on the creating of his new world, made him feel bored and like it was a chore. Light regretted leaving the headquarters, at least there he was surrounded by people who noticed him. There he was important and needed by those who were left. Here, it was like no one even saw him and that caused an urge to do something stupid, just to get attention. 

Strange, how before this all happened, the note and everything, he didn’t even realize how alone he was. Japan’s best student, bathing in the fame, never had a close friend, or at least someone who he could’ve just spoke openly to. School, courses, lessons, help little sister with homework, short conversations with his family at the dinner, which were usually narrowed down to discussions about his successes and his future plans... Periodically he had science contests and rewards. Victories, congratulations, certificates, awards. He was admired, praised, put up on a high place as an example, but in reality, no one cared about what he thought and dreamed about. Yagami, Light. Girls he dated were tolerating his coldness and dispassion, just for the opportunity to go on the date with the best boy in the school. Not one of them could keep up a conversation about things that interested Light. Friends…Light never had those. There were acquaintances—classmates with whom he sometimes spoke to. Always light, meaningless talks, discussions about how people dressed or what one of the teachers had done.

But all of that combined obviously didn’t even compare to the philosophic discussions with Ryuzaki, in those times when they were chained together and allowed themselves to get distracted from work for a bit. In those moments he didn’t even notice that content attention and interest to his every word, look and move—the attention which detective generously gifted him with. Beside Ryuzaki, Light felt himself like he always dreamed—ruler of the world, a human who was better than other mortals in his abilities, shining with his acting talents, surprising with his logic and intelligence. Because only a person with extraordinary abilities or a truly evil genius was able to earn such intense interest from the best detective of the world. To be able to intrigue and lure him within arm’s reach. 

Right now, alone, Light lost that feeling of uniqueness and was depressed and lost. He even missed Ryuk. He never thought that he’d miss that annoying creature from the realm of the death gods. Ryuk, which always meant danger, because one uncareful glance at him or answer aloud and Light would be discovered as Kira. But he missed Ryuzaki the most, still. The one who could walk beside him. Who would quietly ask now, watching Light intently with those wide, dark eyes of his, “Something upsetting you, Raito-kun? Your face looks sad.”

Light could admit to himself that he missed Ryuzaki, alone in the huge crowd, where no one knows him and no one would be alarmed by the sadness on his face. Only… he didn’t want to miss him at all. _‘Go to hell, Ryuzaki,’_ he thought angrily, _‘if you can’t wake up and continue the game—go to hell. Don’t make me think about you.’_

Walking up to the hospital, Light noticed a small, private candy shop with handmade sweets, decorated by a bright sign. The God of the New World was indifferent to sweets and usually didn’t give a second look to those shops, but right now the happy sign and the display, generously decorated by all types of lollipops, caught his attention. Without really understanding what lured him to go in, he pushed the door open.

Inside the shop it was really small, but was shocking with the huge assortment and variety of candy. Lollipops were shining with all the colors of the rainbow and surprised him with the different kinds—tons of fudges, soft taffies, marshmallows, and chocolate figurines for any taste, appetite and wallet. Colorful wrappers, shiny foil, boxes upon boxes, glass and metal jars, filled to the brim with caramel and chocolate. Light was sure that during the time he worked with Ryuzaki he had seen probably all the possible types of candy out there. But with some excited feeling he understood how wrong he was. 

_‘You’d like this place, Ryuzaki,’_ he thought and imagined the hunched over figure, standing in the center of the shop, looking around. A smile lifted the corners of his lips slightly. _‘You’d probably think that you’ve gone to heaven.’_

For some reason this silly thought gave him some unusual warmth, even the stress seemed to be lift a bit. Light thought that if Ryuzaki were sitting in the headquarters right now, and he was going to work and found this shop, he’d buy something for certain for his friend/enemy. Ryuzaki would probably be surprised. There was something luringly pleasant at the opportunity to buy a new, unusual candy for the most spoiled and picky sweets eater. Kira had never before felt the want to do something nice for someone just to do it, without a goal to get something in return, just to give that little happiness. Because of that, the thought that he could buy candy for Ryuzaki was suddenly so tempting.

Yes, he wished his death. And not just wished—wanted it more than anything. But he also wanted to buy him that funny lollipop in the shape of a huge, stripped Möbius strip. To see if he could surprise the great detective with a new sweet. Or bring him that set of chocolate soldiers—that would put a smile on Ryuzaki’s lips if he got it, right? Or would he cruelly bite off their heads while planning Kira’s arrest and execution? 

Light was comfortable in this shop. He slowly walked between aisles with the sweets, stopping and inspecting the most unusual of them. He humored himself, imagined that he could buy Ryuzaki that, or another lollipop, or another intricate candy. But the short opportunity to relax didn’t last long. Light’s gaze stumbled upon a chocolate figure from white and dark chocolate.A doctor figure, in a white gown and a stethoscope around his neck.

_‘The chances of him coming out of the coma are incredibly low.’_ This memory appeared of the merciless words from the doctor. 

Light remembered that there was no reason for him to look at the candy anymore. No sense in picking out the funniest lollipop in hopes of causing a smile. No one would be surprised and no one would be happy about a chocolate figure from Light. He doesn’t even need to guess if his candy would be the first the messy detective with huge eyes would chose from a pile of sweets. 

Upset again, Light left the shop, angry at himself for his inability to come back to his normal, indifferent state. For feeling loneliness so strongly. The loneliness of a gifted person, who is strikingly different from the crowd, but still isn’t able to find anyone else with whom it is possible to talk to like equals. To find a friend. Or at least an enemy. Unable to find such a person, he lost the one who he could talk to as an equal.


	7. Touch

Light was stunned. At first he thought that he got the wrong door. Or that the patient was changed. But immediately understood that nothing was changed. Just…

“Did you brush his hair?” Light turned sharply to the nurse which followed him yesterday. On the way to the room they got time to properly greet each other and now Light knew that her name was Tamari Yuki. She looked at him proudly.

“Of course! Our hospital is proud of its care for bed-patients. We guarantee that relatives have nothing to worry about. No bedsores, grown in nails, unwashed bodies or atrophied muscles. You can be sure that your friend will have the best care.” She acted as if she were in a commercial.

“Grown in nails?” Light repeated, lost. The girl looked at him with sympathy and answered in a less formal tone, “Well yes. They can’t care for themselves. And not all relatives like to watch the hygiene of bedridden patients. Our hospital provides all the needed care and does the necessary procedures.”

For some reason it was rather unpleasant to listen about the details of care for bedridden patients. The imperfection of the human body and full extent of the vulnerability of L, the one who solved hundreds of the hardest cases and rid the world of the most dangerous criminals, was extremely disgusting. He didn’t want to think that the one who called himself justice was now nothing more than a “body” needing care.

“Thank you, I am glad that he is cared for so well.” Light stretched his lips into his usual, polite smile. “Could I be alone with him?”

“Of course,” Yuki nodded. “But only until five. Hanna comes in at five to give him a massage. Your friend is really lucky that she is the one who cares for him. Hanna is our best nurse. She treats the most difficult patients! We believe that she has a lucky hand. Seriously!” she added, seeing how uncertainly Light smiled. “Even our head doctor calls her the hospital’s talisman. She has been working with us for about ten years and not one, can you believe, not one hard patient who she has worked with died!”

“That brings hope!” Light put on a happy face. “I would be glad to meet such a wonderful specialist. 

“You’ll certainly like her,” beamed Yuki. “Alright, I’ll leave you. If you need me, there is the call button. I’ll come immediately.”

The nurse finally left the room and Light’s smile slipped from his face. He walked up to the bed and sat down on chair. He suspiciously, but with huge curiosity, started inspecting the indifferent face of the detective. Trying to figure out how such a minor detail like hairstyle could change such a familiar face to an unrecognizable one.

In front of him was not a messy, a little bit strange and absurd, but such lively Ryuzaki, but a really far away, serious detective L. Smooth, brushed hair laid on his shoulders, bangs didn’t cover his eyes, but instead were brushed to the side, opening up his face and bringing seriousness to it. Light thought that this L really fit the image which was put together by the news. Even his youth didn’t really come to the front as much anymore. The already sharp, firm features of his face got even more sharp looking, underlining the powerful will. He was giving off a feeling of coldness and stubbornness. Ability to go on until the end.

Maybe even a feeling of cruelty. The person who was laying in front of him could definitely pull the lever of the electric chair himself, the creature with the name Kira sitting down on it. Without wincing or thinking the second time. Light felt uneasy. He suddenly thought that right now he was seeing the real face, not hidden by the mask. L’s face. Not Ryuzaki’s. Not friend’s, enemies’.  Dangerous, cruel, merciless enemy. With who it is terrifying to engage in their game.

“You never needed friends, right?” Light said sadly, barely above a whisper. “You never got carried away with the game enough to believe in our friendship… Your trust—only a tool for the victory. I was a fool. Did you ever believe me? Or did you just play with me, making me think I ever had a chance to defeat you?”

He got quiet, weighed down with the realization of how much of his victory was just luck. He wouldn’t have ever won if he didn’t use the forbidden move of using a shinigami. Light thought over the events of the past months in his head, the conversations with Ryuzaki, the way he looked at Light, and was more and more certain that L was just toying with him. He was certain from the very beginning that Light is Kira and not for a second doubted the reality of his belief. Probably if L’s words were enough for an arrest, he’d have closed this case long ago and forgotten about it. But he needed proof. Proof of the guilt of a person whose guilt was obvious to him for a long time. L played, cornering his opponent and letting him have a short time to rest, acting out his doubt in the suspect’s guilt or his attachment and trust. Ran experiments. Waited for a mistake. Cruelly watched him like a guineapig.  

“Is the real you really like this?” whispered Light. “I can’t figure you out. I can’t understand the way your mind works. You can be whoever you want and it pisses me off that either of the variations I see could be the real one.”

Light continued inspecting the face of his enemy, trying to find answers. Or at least get a bit closer to understanding the person who was lying before him. He wanted, wanted so much, to know what thoughts were hidden behind those huge eyes. And wondered what feelings Light caused in this now calmly beating heart of L’s. They were similar. Too similar, in a lot of things. L had stated that and Light had denied it, but in his soul he always knew that the detective was a hundred percent right. Would Ryuzaki feel the suffocating feeling of loss and loneliness if he had won? Would he regret the loss of his interesting opponent? Light would give a lot to know the answer to that question. Maybe even his victory. Actually no. Not his victory. Kira shook his head stubbornly,  and leaned closer to the cold and indifferent face of his enemy.

“You won’t stop, right, if you wake up? You’ll go until the end—until one of us will be completely defeated? We both will never accept other’s ways of saving this world?”

Light was sure that he knew the answers to these questions. It surprised him when he realized that the emptiness went away a bit. He was whole again. Collected again. He was once again tortuously looking over the facts, trying to find answers. Trying to figure out his opponent, to understand his logic and train of thought, to be ready to make his corresponding move.

Shocked, he froze, listening to his feelings. Yes, everything is right. The loss and uncertainty were gone without leaving a trace. He was once again calm, calculating, ready to defend his idea, beside his enemy. Only… He lacked the feeling that he was needed by his enemy, like Ryuzaki was needed by him. That Kira was needed by L. That this strange symbiosis and co-dependency weren’t a result of an overplayed imagination of the God of the new world. He needed clues. But the cold, stern face of L was alien and unfamiliar. It made his thoughts stumble, taking them off track.

Succumbing to the sudden impulse, Light ruffled up L’s hair with both hands. Surprised by how soft and silky the hair was. Pleasant to the touch. Before, he would never allow himself to touch the detective. It was all too clear how L made it obvious that he didn’t tolerate touching. He even avoided shaking hands when they met. Even if they, chained together, happened to accidentally touch, Ryuzaki’s face had a fleeting, painful expression and Light immediately would jerk his hand away and hurry to move aside. It was so strange, taking into account that the detective often used intrusion into personal space as a weapon, walking up to people way too close or moving his face in the closest possible distance, trying to look into the soul through the eyes of someone. It cut through thoughts, disturbed the peace, and forced people to make mistakes. Light, however, never even thought about using touching as a weapon against Ryuzaki. Instead, if the detective got too close to Light and he started to feel uneasy, afraid to touch him, he’d try to step back to keep a safe distance. That was like an abyss, dividing them, standing just a step from each other yet feeling so far.

But right now… everything changed. Though Light thought that everything really had changed back then, on the roof and later on the staircase, the first time that they allowed themselves to touch each other consciously. But the world spun way too fast, too little time for realization, and they didn’t have even a tiny opportunity to continue the game with those new rules. Absentmindedly running his hand through the other’s hair, Kira felt a strange excitement, imagining how much more interesting the game could’ve been, had they been able to continue it. How many more opportunities there’d have been for false clues, lies, new tricks and small victories. To further try to convince each other of their attachment, their friendship, to get the other’s full trust and break down the wall of suspicion. To win.

After Higuchi’s arrest, L got kinda depressed and Light thought that the second round of their game didn’t make his heart beat faster anymore. But if… If they had time to continue, they would have stepped onto another level. Together. Two genius egoists would have started a higher battle on the level of emotions, tactile and verbal understanding; it would have rose to a truly unreachable height. The winner would’ve been worthy to rule the world.

“You have to come back, Ryuzaki,” whispered Light, nearly gentle in his tone, continuing to place the dark strands in their usual chaotic manner. “We didn’t finish, didn’t finish at all. I now understand. That I have to kill you myself. With my own hands. Or convince you to support me. I need a honest victory, without lies. Only then this feeling, like everything isn’t finished, will leave.” 

Light tried to push away the annoying thought, didn’t want to admit, even in the depths of his soul, that he was simply lacking the presence of Ryuzaki—alive and awake. The thoughts of a tempting new game with new rules were just helping him to cope with the emptiness and the suffocating feeling that there was no continuation.

He sat in the room for the next half hour then left, deep in his thoughts, having forgotten that he wanted to wait to meet Hanna, the person who now had all of the power over the bony body of the detective, which still barely clung to the last flame of life. He also forgot about his promise to visit Watari and ask for the password to the locked files. Light only remembered that when he was nearing Misa’s flat and got pissed at himself. Grand Kira, just like this, stupidly and unforgivably making mistakes. With a cold tone, just after greeting Misa, ignoring her questions and unstoppable flow of words, he requested the Note.


	8. First Dream

They worked really well that night. The air was soaked with some surprising feeling of friendliness and mutual respect. They each understood immediately, catching the other’s thoughts as they spoke and easily, nearly unnoticeably, worked over and analyzed a huge database. It was really comfortable to sit like that, nearly touching shoulders, in front of two huge screens, feeling the closeness of another person who thought exactly like you. Someone who could finish your logical trails when you accidentally stumbled. Light didn’t remember when the last time he was so happy with his work had been. But the work did tire him. His body kept slumping over, eyes closing and his head threatened to rest on his keyboard.

“Go to sleep, Raito-kun,” Ryuzaki said softly, noticing his state. “We worked really well today.”

“Thank you. But I am really…aaaaa…not tired.” Light’s words were betrayed by a yawn in the middle of his sentence. 

Ryuzaki’s lips curled up into a barely-noticeable, sly smile. Light thought that his friend was smiling more recently and it was really nice on him. 

“Each organism has its own requirements for rest. There is no need to ignore it,” the detective looked over at Light. “Or do you want to become like me?”

“Heh, no, becoming a messy zombie isn’t a tempting perspective,” laughed Light. 

“Do I really look that horrendous?” Ryuzaki responded with a fake pout. His eyes betrayed him with hints of amusement. 

“I don’t know. Got used to it,” Light laughed more. 

It was nice to be able to tease each other like that meaninglessly. It allowed his tired brain to relax and let go of the work. It put emphasis on their closeness and on their warm relationship. 

“Alright, let’s go.” Light gave up. “I am really just sleep working like this. Sorry that I didn’t help you finish this completely.“

“We already finished everything, Raito-kun,” protested Ryuzaki. “The only things left are the reports and to transfer the data into charts. It’s an easy technical job, not requiring any analysis.  I can do this part alone.” 

They turned off the light in the huge room of the main office and left for their room. As usual, Ryuzaki settled down on the floor beside the bed with the laptop and Light laid down on the edge of the bed, so when he turned in his sleep he wouldn’t distract the detective from work, accidentally tugging on the chain. 

However, Light really didn’t want to fall asleep. He fought with the sleepiness, like this was their last evening, like the morning shouldn’t come. 

“Ryuzaki,” he lightly tugged on the chain, getting the detective’s attention. “How high is the probability that Kira stops by himself? That he will stop killing, realizing that he went down the wrong path?” 

“I think that the probability of that outcome is less than one percent.” Without looking away from the laptop’s monitor, Ryuzaki nibbled on the tip of his thumb. “I think that Kira already crossed that line where he could have stopped.“

“You don’t believe in remorse?”

“I do,” Ryuzaki turned to him. “Watari says that every single person has a right to get a chance to correct their mistakes. We can’t take that chance away from him. Only Kira has already used that chance.”

“Used the chance to change? When?” Light tortuously kept the sleep away, trying to gather his thoughts. “Ryuzaki, explain! Why can’t he stop?” 

“Because there is no reason to anymore. What he could have saved, if he had stopped in time, is already lost. Now the only thing he can do is kill.” Ryuzaki looked firmly at Light. “Sleep, Raito-kun. We’ll speak tomorrow.”

Light wanted to ask something else, but he had no strength left to fight and he fell asleep, with a firm intention to figure out what Ryuzaki was talking about tomorrow. Which line had Kira crossed that the detective spoke of? What loss did the invincible killer endure and how does Ryuzaki know about it? And why does Light know nothing about it?

* * *

Light woke up surpassingly energized. Stretching, he squint at the bright sun which was shining in through the window. Quickly rolling over to the edge of the bed, he was prepared to ruffle up the black mane beside him and scare its owner.

“Ryuzaki…” A mischievous smile froze on his lips. This isn’t the right room. Different furniture, different floor and no traces of the detective sitting on the floor, consumed by his work. Light glanced around quickly. On the other end of the bed quietly was Misa, snoring quietly and hugging a pillow. The memory of the past few days exploded in his head.

_‘A dream,’_ Light realized sadly. _‘Just a torturously realistic dream.’_ All that energy and good mood immediately disappeared.  Light got up, gloomy and upset, noticing that it was six in the morning, and drug himself to the bathroom. He opened the faucet and splashed ice cold water on his face. He froze, looking into the mirror at his reflection. Into Kira’s eyes.

“You couldn’t stop in time, Kira,” he whispered, looking with hatred into his own eyes. Amazed at the evil swimming in them. It seemed that in the depth of his pupils flashed red splashes. “The only thing left to do is kill. Because whatever you could have lost, you’ve already lost.”

Yesterday Kira set a record on the number of names written down. But not a single criminal got a chance to die from a heart attack. No, yesterday Light was creative and cruel. Letting out his pain, his disappointment and his loneliness, he thought up a unique death for every single criminal. Accidents, car crashes, creative suicides in closed prison cells. It was as if a deadly tornado had come across the rows of unfortunate souls who had the luck to get into the evening news that night.

It was strange that after such an active evening he saw such a warm, nice dream. A dream full of Ryuzaki. It seemed like what could’ve happened, had he not happened across a certain deadly notebook. Or if he could have stopped himself in time. Light knew when he had that chance. In that moment when he regained his memories he could’ve still changed the line of events. To not involve Misa. Leave everyone with a certain belief that Higuchi was the first and the last Kira. To have stayed with Ryuzaki and eventually earned his trust, to become a real friend. Never again feel the burning feeling of loneliness. 

But how would he have known that everything would turn out like this? That he will be lacking that one person whose death he once wished to achieve with any possible method. That the entire game would lose its value and he would feel like a tennis player standing on the court, alone. With his opponent never coming back.

Even if he knew… Never, under any circumstances, would Kira have backed down. He wouldn’t betray his dedication to rule the world. But then why did it hurt so much?

“It’s just a habit.” Light said to his reflection. “I just got used to the fact that there is someone always nearby. Who is able to understand. Able to value. It will pass.”

Light washed up and put himself together. Waiting until Misa wakes up was something he really did not want to do. But there was nowhere to go. Headquarters were empty at night and the thought of being alone where everything was screaming his crime, his betrayal, honestly scared him. Only… Was it really a betrayal? Did he kill a man who trusted him and thought of him as a friend? Or did he just take his last real opponent off the board, tearing out a masterful win in a play where a tie was impossible? Light had no answers, only questions. 

Another wave of loneliness overcame him and his memory brought forth the words from last night’s dream “What you could have lost, you have already lost.” _‘Wait a moment,’_ Light suddenly realized. ‘ _No one has died yet! I didn’t lose anything yet… not completely. If I can’t speak to him, then I can still at least be near.’_

Ryuzaki rested in the VIP section where visitors were allowed 24/7. They weren’t even banned from staying the night, to stay beside the person’s bed. That meant that now, at seven in the morning, nothing was stopping Light from sitting beside the bed of his best worst enemy. Uplifted by that fact, Light, trying to be quiet and not accidentally wake up Misa, carefully slipped out of the flat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized then that we have only one day between chapters like this. So next chapter is on Monday, but chapter after that is on Thursday instead.


	9. Kira

Coming up to the hospital, Light glanced at the candy shop, and saw that it was, surprisingly, open. On the door was a glowing sign that read "open 24/7". Light was puzzled for a moment. Why would a candy shop be open all the hours of the day? Then he instantly realized the reason. The hospital had a children's ward. Just like an adult one, specializing on serious heart conditions. Many little patients finished their paths in the walls of this hospital. And one of the few happy things that they were allowed was the candy. Bright, colorful candies in all shapes, tastes and colors. Able to distract children from the illness, treatment and fear. A gift, even this small, would give them necessary happiness. And, of course, parents would run to retrieve that little happiness at any time, at the first request.

Light, feeling incredibly stupid, walked into the shop confidently and bought the lollipop which had tempted him yesterday—a colorful Möbius strip. In the end, why shouldn't he allow himself this weakness and buy this damned candy for the sweet-eater he hated? Angry at himself, Kira carefully put the bag with the delicate lollipop in the pocket of his jacket.

With disregard to the early time, Ryuzaki was cleaned and brushed.

"Hi," Light grumbled, walking up to the bed and trying not to look at the once again unfamiliar face.

He took the ceramic glass that was there, probably used to give drinks to the patients. But this patient didn't need it. Everything that he needed was delivered into his system through IV line and the needle in his vein.

He set the glass on the end-table, which was meant for the storage of medical devices—not for personal things. Light pulled out the bag with the lollipop. Careful not to break it, he opened it and placed the stick in the glass. "Here." It was somewhat awkward and Light got even more embarrassed. "I bought you a lollipop. Sorry that before… When you could appreciate it, I didn't think of it."

He felt stupid, but at the same time, he was extremely satisfied that he brought Ryuzaki a candy. It was really… right feeling? Only the bitter feeling that it was right, but late, poisoned the moment. Light felt that he is getting angry again. At himself but also at Ryuzaki, who still didn't answer him, resembling a wax doll. "You know? You really don't look good brushed." Light found where to channel his rising frustration. In the back of his mind he noticed that every sentence in this conversation with the unmoving body was coming out easier and easier. More natural. Maybe he was getting used to this new form of conversation? Had he accepted the… new rules of their existence?

"And if you still didn't decide to wake up, I'll have to do this myself." Light sat down on the edge of the bed and with an already familiar motion, started ruffling up detective's hair into chaos. "Sorry that I have to touch you."

"I think he wouldn't protest." The sudden, quiet voice made Light nearly jump. Watari stood in the doorway, leaning on a heavy, but homey-looking woman in her middle ages.

"Good Morning, Watari," Light answered calmly. His heart was pounding an insane rhythm, but Kira could endure it. "You're already allowed to get up?"

"Yes, the doctor generously allowed me to walk to Ryuzaki's room, thanks to Hanna." The woman, who was walking alongside the elderly man, was apparently Hanna. Carefully holding the older man up, she walked Watari to the couch and helped him sit down. "I said that I am stronger than I look and can do it myself, but she didn't believe me."

"Each of us might need help, there is nothing bad in admitting it," said the woman. She had a strange accent and an over-the-top gentleness. She audibly stretched out the sounds in her words and it really went with her western appearance. Despite the fact that Hanna was obviously not young, the dimples that appeared on her cheeks when she talked gave her face some amused and homey look. She made a pleasant impression.

"And you," she looked at Light, "are that friend who visits Ryuzaki? I was told about you. I am Hanna and the one providing the care for your friend."

"Yes, I was also told about you," Light remembered that he had to introduce himself. "Yagami, Light. I… We worked together."

"Glad to meet you." Hanna nodded. "You know, I prefer to know everyone who visits those in my care. Some protest, blaming me in inappropriate curiosity, but I just have this little tick. You never know who could come visit the patients, really, and they are helpless lying here. Of course we have security, and they do their job wonderfully, but I want to say…"

"You are completely right!" Light interrupted her with enthusiasm, feeling that Hanna was the type of woman who could talk for eternity. "It is wonderful that you are so meticulous in your work!"

"I am glad that someone understands," Hanna nodded proudly, but her eyes showed a slight disappointment at being interrupted and not being able to continue her speech.

Light felt a slight ping of conscience, that he upset this nice woman, who took upon herself the burden of caring for the bed-ridden patients. In the end she may also be lonely—caring all day for people who you can't even talk to. He glanced at Ryuzaki—for some reason the feeling of guilt had come because his rudeness happened in front of him.

"It is amazing that we can rely on you, Hanna," Watari carefully continued, saving Light from the unfamiliar feeling of awkwardness. "Sadly, any of us can have people who dislike us, or even enemies, and I am glad that you are always beside Ryuzaki. Now I can be calm."

 _'God…'_ flashed in Light's mind,  _'He has an entire world of enemies and his main enemy is currently standing beside his bed.'_ An already natural habit caused Light to hide behind his bangs.

Hanna was also touched by Watari's words and happily replied, "You can be sure that I'll watch over your boy. To be honest, it's rare that I care for such a young person… But it's okay, the younger they are, the stronger—the faster they recover!"

"Thank you. I heard about your ability to recover hopeless patients and really hope that Ryuzaki won't be an exception," Watari's voice sounded completely calm. As if the shock he experienced just two days ago didn't really happen. "I'll stay here for a bit and then return to my room."

"Alright, Mr. Watari, then push the call button when you're ready to leave. I'll come help you." Hanna headed for the door, but stopped midway and turned to Light with suspicion. "Yagami Light, excuse my curiosity… but I am caring for him and my duties include upkeep of his looks. Can you tell me why you are messing up his hair? You don't like how I brush it?"

"No-no, thats not it! You are doing your job great." It seemed absolutely absurd to Light, to discuss this topic and he was a bit embarrassed. "It's just… He couldn't stand… can't stand brushing his hair."

"Light is right." With a barely noticeable smile, Watari agreed, "Ryuzaki preferred to keep his hair messy. I think Light just wanted to bring back his normal look." Hanna looked from one to another with unhidden surprise.

"Strange habit for a young man, to forget to brush his hair. Well, the rich have their ticks. Alright, I'll try to give him a different hairstyle, the one you like."

Nodding as a goodbye to both, she left the room. Awkward silence descended on the room. Light looked at Ryuzaki's face and thought about how they had just talked about the man like they were getting a mannequin ready for display. For some reason that was the unpleasant association which came to mind. He was also trying to figure out why he kept stumbling into past terms when speaking about the detective. Like he was already dead. Or like Kira really was hoping that his enemy wouldn't wake up, like he was hurrying to celebrate his victory. Light got confused in his feelings, feelings which he wasn't used to.

Before he had picked up the note, it was rare for him to feel anything in general. Maybe that's why the game had gotten him so involved. In it he had felt alive. But right now his emotions were filled to the brim—there was too much, messing up his thoughts, disturbing the calm, his logic was distracted from his goal. He couldn't be confident anymore that the new world was worth this cost, this victim. He needed, horribly needed Ryuzaki. His voice, his incredible traps, his suspicions. His eyes that looked straight into one's soul. For Kira to gain power, he needed L.

Light suddenly remembered that he had wanted to ask Watari if he had any passwords to Ryuzaki's personal files. He turned his head and felt his heart fall somewhere way down and increasing its beat.

The old man sat on the couch and read the newspaper. In front of him, on the coffee table, was a whole stack, now a little bit disorganized, of new newspapers, prepared by the staff of the hospital. All front covers had the same thing… Screaming headlines, bright pictures, full columns—everything was about only one event. A new series of murders, unlike the previous ones. Bloody murders and unnatural deaths. Headlines were printed out in huge font with questions like "Why is Kira angry at us?", "What has happened to Kira?", "Appearance of a new Kira?", or announcements like "Kira declaring War!", "Kira lays the path to hell!", or "Third Kira!" blended into one screaming chorus. Kira, Kira, Kira.

 _"Concede, sinners,"_  flew through Light's head, a rather self indulgent thought and his lips barely held back from spreading into a satisfied grin.  _"Your God is punishing you."_

All thoughts about Ryuzaki flew out of his head. From behind his bangs he curiously looked over the photograph which was placed on the front cover of the newspaper which Watari was reading. Death had come to the bailed out criminal in the form of a wheel, which had flown off a truck that had been passing by. A huge wheel had literally smeared the unfortunate criminal on the sidewalk, leaving behind only a bloody puddle with some rags of inner organs and other parts of the body. Exactly that sickening photograph adorned the front cover. You have to give credit to the publication—they weren't afraid to publish that photograph for the ratings. Light smugly imaged what horror and disgust was produced by that photograph from his power. He actually savored the wave of panic it would cause. They would be terrified of him. They would pray to him. They would bow.

"Light?" Watari looked up suspiciously at him from the newspaper.

"I, um…" Light coughed. "I apologize, I didn't see today's newspapers yet."

"Kira made a new move." Watari spoke softly, with some strange compassion toward Light. "I think that you are wanted in the headquarters now."

"Yes, I should hurry. Watari," Light finally remembered once again what he kept forgetting to ask. "We found a lot of locked files, probably Ryuzaki's personal files, to which we don't have passwords to."

"I know," Watari nodded calmly, "Sadly, I can't help you. If Ryuzaki decided it was necessary to lock these files with extra passwords, then it was needed."

"But his conclusions could really help us in the investigation!" Light tried to convince him. "We really need help right now. Clues. We could possibly find them in Ryuzaki's files!"

"If he could leave you something useful, he would not hide it," Watari answered, still calm, voice still soft. "I am really sorry. As soon as Ryuzaki wakes up, I am sure that he'll immediately join the investigation."

"Yes, I understand," Light spoke, a bit lost. Watari's words implanted a new, not completely formed yet question in his mind, but he decided to set it aside and think it over later. "In any case, thank you. They are probably waiting for me in the headquarters. Goodbye."

"Have a good day, Light." Watari nodded. "And be careful. You are alone now. Try not to make mistakes. I think Kira is really dangerous right now."

"Uh… Thank you, I'll try," muttered Light, hurrying out of the room.

Was it just him or did Watari's words have another meaning to them? Nonsense… However, what did he know about this elderly man? He never really had gotten involved in the investigation, or had given his opinion in conversations. He never told his thoughts. He was always a shadow, a loyal butler of Ryuzaki, caring only about the detective's comfort. Or so it seemed. But who was he, really? Light had no clue and never had thought about it. All of his thoughts were occupied with Ryuzaki. He saw Watari as part of the detective. Only now did he consider that the elderly gentleman was quite likely the only person who knew the real L. The only one who L trusted. Who he allowed to care about him. The one whom he shared his real thoughts with. Watari was that someone who Light could never be.

The last thought came suddenly and completely disoriented Light, taking away his ability to continue analyzing Watari's words and to search for the double meaning in them. He decided that he could spend time later deciphering the man's words. Light focused on the morning news. He had a bit of time—exactly how long it took to get to the headquarters. Not on foot, but in a taxi. And too long of an absence could cause suspicion. He really didn't need that right now.

Kira, who was ready to take the place of the greatest detective and then chase himself, needed the full trust of the people around him. Knowing that no one was watching him, Light allowed himself to smile victoriously, unable to hide his triumph.  _'See, Ryuzaki, everything happened wonderfully. "Third Kira" sounds nice right? The more players there are the harder it is to find the truth. But of course, my darling, you wouldn't believe this trick. But you are not here, so Kira has full freedom now.'_


	10. Teaspoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why no Thursday update? Because I am lazy. Also I was at a con past weekend and school just started. Whoops.

The headquarters were noisy. Everybody was already there. They quickly greeted Light and disappointingly found out that there had been no change in Ryuzaki’s condition, nor passwords to the locked files and folders and the detectives got visibly depressed. Their spirits were slightly uplifted by the news of Watari’s improved health, but the loyal guardian of the genius detective was soon forgotten, as the huge amount of new information didn’t leave room for anything else. Police reports and messages from the prisons about the deaths of criminals needed detailed processing and analysis. The video tapes and photographs that were handed over needed to be looked over. They needed to understand what was going on and why, and what could they, right now, alone, without Ryuzaki, could put up against the invincible killer.

Just like he expected, Light was unanimously put into the place of a leader of the investigation. No discussion, no loud speeches, the fact that this was the time for Light to take up the place of the genius detective, just like L had asked some time ago, was not questioned. It was easy to slip into – giving out small orders, directing the investigation team and telling everyone what they should be doing, it came naturally and in discussions he always had the last word and decision as, unnoticeably, everyone had started to direct their questions to him. None of the former policemen voiced any concern that the one in charge of the Kira investigation is the person who, for the longest time, was the prime suspect of it. Light received their full trust. He completely cleared himself of any suspicions with his desperate attempt to save Ryuzaki’s life and deep concern for the life of a friend. The fact that L and him managed to get close and became best friends was not questioned by anyone now. All that was needed was to look at Light’s usually dispassionate face and see the sadness and determination. Determination to finish this case. 

They were so easy to control. So easy to make them look over small details. Make wrong conclusions. Even his father. Light, with all his respect toward his father, felt some sort of pride with how gracefully he was confusing the former Chief of Japanese Police. Kira rejoiced. Rejoiced and writhed in his soul from pain and loneliness surrounding him. From that emptiness which radiated from Ryuzaki’s chair. From the simple fact that no one was chewing their thumb, crouched in that chair, staring down at him. Because there was no one to be afraid of anymore. Light sorely realized that his genius and incredible game were rotting and disappearing in front of a couple of people, who weren’t able to judge his ability. His talent. 

He was calming himself down with the thought that the chance, even if as minimal as the doctors said, was still there. The chance that the owner of the most genius mind would return. Open his eyes. Request the reports from the past few days. Look at Light with surprise. And return to catching Kira, trying to trick him into his web of words and hints, cornering him, making him unable to catch the elusive genius. 

Because of that, despite his loneliness and sadness, Light didn’t forget to carefully look over all the data, searching for errors which he could’ve made. Consciously not recording even minuscule details which could lead to the first Kira. Possibly, right now, he was overestimating L, elevating his ability to put together different pieces of information. But too many times it was that the detective cornered him, untangling the ball of lies and finding the right string to the truth, where it seemed that even Light had lost it. That’s why he needed to be extremely careful right now. Not allow even a single mistake. Build a logical chain in which there would be no errors.

Light’s plan was incredibly simple. When Higuchi appeared, Yagami constantly felt a growing friendliness for Ryuzaki. At the time he was doubting Light’s guilt and he was certain that his suspicions weren’t all that important. What was important was that they were always together, doing the same thing. And Light always felt like he was in the detective’s sight. Always feeling Ryuzaki’s interest in his words, conclusions, actions. Light clung to the short praises of his abilities and genius mind. He was able to sit beside him, talk to him, work and drink tea. They were…They were like two fighting countries, making a peace treaty in the time of war with a common enemy. Even if it was just for a while. It was an entrancing feeling, to feel the closeness with which he was able to communicate with the greatest detective. With the person who was pleasant and interesting to talk to, and from whom he could learn so much. With his main enemy, who he could hate with his whole heart and respect with his whole being.

Light only now realized how much he actually had. If there was at least a one in a million chance to return at least something, he didn’t want to lose it. He needed to get ready for the play. Put up the decorations, write out the roles. But for the main part he needed an outside enemy. A dangerous, ruthless enemy, against whom the two fighting counties would have to join forces. Start to trust each other for the time of the treaty. Stop, for at least some time, to build plans to destroy each other. And then—well he’d figure that out afterwards.

The bold and frightening headlines of the newspapers nudged him an idea to use his yesterday’s weakness, his despair, which resulted in consequences, which had been unpleasant for him, for the creation of a new character. A third Kira—really, why not? A great opportunity for an external enemy. Even, to be honest, the only possible one. The world didn’t actually give a shit about which number the investigation slapped onto a new Kira entity. When the time came, he would put everything in its place, bringing forth the priorities and appointing the main puppeteer. The time would come and the world would discover the true God. This world, protected from crime. Possibly this God could be able to save his eternal enemy—a bony, messy detective, in it. Because otherwise the new world would be too empty and cold and Light understood that perfectly. 

However, he also understood that if Ryuzaki stood in the way to his goal again, he’d kill him once more. Without doubts. Only… not immediately… He still needed answers to the questions which he still wasn’t able to form, too surprised by the opponent’s sudden exit from the play.

Light thanked the unknown-to-him journalist in his thoughts, the imagination that person had helped him. The only thing left was to bring in another fictional, active player and turn him into the main target of the investigation. But you couldn’t hurry with that. And you couldn’t show initiative either. Because the quiet, soft voice would definitely later ask why it was Light who was trying to convince everybody else that the note had exchanged hands once again. Despite how much the best student of Japan wanted to hear that voice right now, he realized perfectly how dangerous such questions were. Because of that, when looking through the newspapers, Matsuda finally noticed the needed headline, and the headquarters buzzed with the questions about the possibility of a Third Kira. Light stood his position against that idea. Arguing that they had too little facts and evidence for the conclusion. That they won’t accept this version just based on one day of different behavior from Kira. That they needed to observe and collect statistics, put together and thoroughly check and compare the data from the first and second Kira to the new facts. That, in the end, it could be a new sly plan to distract their attention away from the real Kira and they couldn’t let themselves to be led on by the provocation. 

Of course, the former officers agreed with him and continued the work with the data analysis without connections to the theories of a third Kira. Light was satisfied.

However, the feeling that someone was watching his back, wearing a sly smile, catching the lies in his conclusions, wouldn’t leave him. Light himself knew that he played only in half of his abilities. _‘I’d act differently for you’,_ Light addressed him. ’ _But for them this will work. And if you are so smart, you could’ve been sitting here and not lying who knows where.’_

Disappointingly, he felt that he was beginning to feel the absence of Ryuzaki again, the feeling which had let go a bit during the argument with his colleagues. 

Misa called. Light walked out of the main office, but wasn’t sure if the cameras were turned off or if they kept filming the empty rooms and halls. So he tried to shorten the call, putting the blame on the business of the whole team. Plus, he still hadn’t decided if he would go to Misa tonight, or put the new killings on her and drive home with his father instead. The prospect of going to Misa was not pleasant. Light felt some embarrassment for yesterday’s blast of anger and imagination. And for the same reason he didn’t want to go home either—he was embarrassed to hug his mother and sister, knowing that they read the newspapers and saw the photographs. In the end he had no where to go.

If Ryuzaki was here, Light would stay to work and the question of where to sleep would be solved. But staying in the headquarters alone was not a pleasant thought either. And how would he explain that to his father? Forgetting about Kira, Light grimly looked at the monitor and tried to understand—how could it be that he, the best student in Japan, the God of this world, had absolutely no where to go?

“Light are you going home today?” His father pulled his thoughts out of the grim path. Light looked back at him, lost. He completely got engaged in his thoughts and didn’t notice that it was dark outside, and all the detectives were ready to go home. 

“Sorry, dad, but no.” Light put up a slightly embarrassed front and guiltily looked over at his father. “I thought, and Misa asked to come over… I’ll go to her tonight.”

“Again!” Matsuda finished happily. 

Luckily, he couldn’t see Light’s eyes, hidden behind his bangs as usual, otherwise he’d have met the full of hatred in the eyes of Kira. Light decided to ignore the remark. 

“Of course, visit Misa,” Soichiro answered genially. “Speaking of, it’s Saturday soon, maybe you could invite her for dinner. Sachiko would be happy.” 

“Yeah… Thank you. Of course, I’ll invite her.” Light thought that this was the first time that his parents had invited him and his girlfriend over for a family dinner. It would be wonderful… If that girlfriend was not Misa. The Second Kira.

“Light, are you done? Come with us, we can leave together,” suggested Mogi.

“Yes, I’ll just turn off the computer. You can go, I’ll catch up at the elevator. It’s a long wait anyway.” Light moved the chair. 

The detectives, putting on coats and jackets as they got up, hurried out. Everyone had somewhere to go, each of them, even Matsuda, had someone waiting. They all were hurrying to meet someone. No one waited for Kira. Even Ryuzaki, in his hospital bed, didn’t care if his friend visited him or not. Or an enemy, as there was no difference by now. 

The best student in Japan was left alone in the office. Cringing from the thoughts in his head like a tooth pain, Light waited for the computer shut down. He grabbed the jacket from beside his chair, which he had thrown there this morning, and made a step toward the exit. He felt that he had stepped on something. He leaned down to check what it was and, with a shaking hand, lifted a teaspoon. He recognized it. It was the exact same spoon with which Ryuzaki had pointed at the notebook, informing them that he was going to test it. That exact spoon which had slipped from the detective’s hand before he, weakened, fell out of his chair. Before Light caught him, not letting him hit the floor and felt in his hands the warmth of another’s body. Smelled the light scent of vanilla. 

The memories attacked in a wave. Light remembered how light he thought Ryuzaki was. And his last gaze. How slowly the black eyelashes lowered, closing his eyes. And also… the memory of the slightly sweet taste of someone else’s lips made Light nervously lick his own. All of those memories were overwhelming. They made it hard to breathe and made him want to scream. Light clutched the spoon in his hand and kicked the nearest chair with full force. 

“Damnit, Ryuzaki, if only you knew how much I hate you!” His scream was more like the howl of a wounded animal. 

He finally could allow himself to scream, left alone in the room where he last spoke with his enemy. 


	11. Longing

Light woke up with his head laying on the desk. He slowly straightened his sore spine. His body hurt, his eyes were burning and his temples were pounding. In front of him was the open Death Note. How had he even managed to fall asleep on the chair? Light wrote yesterday until late in the night, pressing down on the pen, nearly tearing the pages. Making a schedule for deaths for the next few days. Making up more and more new variations of criminal’s deaths, in the cells and for the wanted. Getting frustrated that even this nearly didn’t bring him any relief. Feeling how the emptiness grew inside. 

Misa didn’t wait for him and went to sleep. And he… finishing up the writing, just sat there. Not thinking about anything. Probably fell asleep just like that.

Getting up with some difficulty, Light walked to the bathroom. In the mirror was at his grim reflection; reddened eyes, messy hair, crumpled suit. 

_‘Looking terrible,’_ he commented on himself. But for some reason he didn’t care how he looked. Probably for the first time in his life. He felt a traitorous weakness, a tremble in his body and his thoughts didn’t want to move properly, drowning in numbness. Splashing some water on his face, not even brushing his hair, Light returned back to the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, tiredly putting his hands on his knees. He just sat and looked into the space in front of him. 

“Liiiiight!” Misa woke up and crawled over the bed to hug him. “Did you not go to bed?”

“No,” Light grumbled and suddenly remembered what bothered him since yesterday. “Misa, where is Ryuk? I didn’t see him with you, not even once!”

“I don’t know,” pouted Misa. “Why should I know where he is. Ryuk is strange now anyway. Flies over for a bit and leaves just like that. Rem never left me, but this one… I miss Rem.” She sighed sadly. “I really miss her…”

“I understand,” Light answered quietly, looking down at his hands. He suddenly thought that he could at least talk to Misa. Tell her about the feelings which were bothering him. About what exhausted him so much. “I also miss Ryuk. And…Ryuzaki…”

“Whaaaat?!” Misa’s yell nearly deafened him. Outraged, she jumped off the bed and stood in front of Light. “You miss him? Miss that pervert? Light! He nearly killed us both! How can you miss him?!”

“I don’t know,” answered Kira helplessly as he looked up at her tiredly. 

How could he explain something to her that even he himself couldn’t understand? He really lacked someone who could understand him. Listen. Explain what was happening to the best student of Japan. 

“I don’t understand,” muttered Misa, but suddenly she smiled. “Light is joking, right? Decided to mess with me, because I said that I miss Rem?”

She laughed happily and pulling Light’s face close with both of her hands, pecked his lips, ignoring the confused look he had. 

“I don’t miss her when you are around!” she informed him happily. “If you visit more I won’t miss her at all! Why would I need Rem when you are close?”

“Do you feel bad when you are alone?” Still hoping to talk, Light looked into her eyes.

“Bad? Why should I feel bad? I am not alone, I am with you!” Misa straightened and now Light had to look up at her. “Light, are you sick? You are being weird.”

She tried to feel his forehead. Light, feeling the familiar frustration start to grow, grabbed her hand. “I’m alright, Misa.” He pecked her cheek lightly and got up. “I was just messing around.” 

* * *

In the headquarters, Light was quiet and distant. Absentmindedly answering questions. Tiredly interacting in the discussions. 

“Light, are you sick?” As if he was repeating Misa’s question, his father placed a hand on his shoulder, looking down at his face with worry. “You don’t look too well.”

“No, everything is fine,” Light answered tiredly, looking away from the monitor. “I didn’t sleep too well. Probably just didn’t get enough rest.”

“You are really overworking on this case.” Aizawa walked up to them. “Light, you need to relax more. The last few days were really hard on you.”  

“Really, maybe you should go home?” Soichiro was obviously worried for his son. Light leaned back against the chair, tiredly rubbing his eyes. 

“No, everything is fine.” He tried to give his look the most confidence. “Let’s continue working. We need to catch this Kira as soon as possible, it doesn’t matter if he is new or old.”

Detectives engaged the work once more. Light looked over the names of the dead, diligently checking their appearance in the public database. Yesterday he used data from the Japanese police and so he had to make sure that no mistake was made. He had to be sure that every single name and face had some mention in the news, or were put into the open source for wanted criminals. The photographs of the crime scenes were nauseating. No, the sight of blood or a dead body didn’t scare him. He was the son of a policeman and from a young age he was interested in the work of his father, so was used to a lot. It was often that his dad brought home files with the case and Light readily assisted him. There were even worse pictures there. But now… in front of him was the evidence of his murders. His crimes. It was one thing to write down a name into the notebook and completely another to see for himself the result of that writing. Digesting result. Blood, mutilated bodies, distorted faces, missing limbs. All of that was not a deed of an abstract killer. This was done by him, Light, the best student of Japan, Kira.

“It’s like he wants us to stop him,” Aizawa suddenly says.

“Sorry, what?” The former police chief turned to him. “What are you talking about?”

“I am saying that this Kira is doing this on purpose. Making those killings so brutal. It’s like he wants to be stopped. I had a case about a serial murder that when captured, confirmed the theory of the criminal psychologists that he made his crimes more and more cruel because unconsciously he wanted to be stopped as soon as possible. He couldn’t stop by himself anymore. Right now, Kira’s actions reminded me of him.”

“Kira is not a normal killer. I don’t think that we can apply the usual standards to him.” Light calmly put his opinion in. “Especially while we still can’t certainly say that this person is still the one who we thought was the first Kira, or the notebook is in the hands of someone else now.”

“Light is completely right!” Just as always, Matsuda jumped into the conversation. “And L said that Kira is not a normal killer! Let’s not get distracted, Aizawa!”

“All right. I just shared my suspicions.” Somewhat upset, the detective agreed.

Light glanced over them from behind his bangs, feeling like he was the owner of a puppet show. A really old and really tired owner. One who is bored of doing the show every day, pulling his puppets out onto the stage. Feeling the teaspoon in his pocket through the material of the jacket, Light squeezed it. His heart responded with the familiar pang of pain. He felt the dull, painful longing which came in place of the vivid emotions. Like he was crying all those days and now there were no more tears. Like there was no more him. 

Light looked at the calendar. Just four days had passed. Just four days were enough for emotions to completely crumble him. Exhaust completely. Erase the triumph, making the victory, which he was struggling so much to get, useless. Which he now curses. 

_‘We’d probably bury him already.’_ The sad thought occurred in his mind. _‘If he died immediately. Would it be easier for me if he died then?’_ Light was sure, that no.

He suddenly really wanted to see Ryuzaki. Touch him. Feel that he is still here. That he still has his minimal chances. It was… It was much more important right now than the cleansed-from-crime world. 

“Dad, I really don’t feel too well.” Light turned to his father. “I will go home.”

“Of course, you should go, Light!” His father jumped up, walking over to him. “Do you have the keys? Mom and Sayu went away to an aunt and will come back only sometime in the evening.”

“Yes, I have the keys.” Light got up heavily. Soichiro watched him in worry. 

“Light, maybe we can call a doctor?”

“Chief, I can walk Light home!” Matsuda jumped up. 

“No, that’s not necessary, thank you,” Light sighed, “I just need to get some sleep.”

He headed for the exit. Already in the doorway, he heard the detectives talk about him in hushed voices. 

“Poor guy, he is really grieving about Ryuzaki,” whispered Matsuda.

“Yes, Light was always really sensitive. This whole thing really affected him. I am worried about him.” His father’s voice. 

“We need to try and do more work to help Light. He really wants to catch Kira and doesn’t care for himself at all.” Aizawa. 

_‘How cute,’_ Light thought grimly, walking into the elevator. _‘They are all so worried that Kira doesn’t take care of himself. Rabbits caring about the snake’s health.’_ He thought back to what his father had said. _‘I was always really sensitive? Ha! Can my own father know me this badly? Never saw the real me? Or… Or he never wanted to see…’_ Light suddenly clearly saw himself on the roof, under the freezing November rain. The hunched figure opposite to him. The pale face, with drops of rain running down it. The sad look in those dark eyes. _“Did you ever tell the truth?”_

Light, unable to take the memories and not able to stop them, suddenly hit the metal wall of the elevator with his fist. Pain shot up his hand, resonating in his brain, erasing the thoughts. Giving an opportunity to breathe again. Walking out of the elevator, Light breathed out what he would like to have said back then.

“No, I didn’t. Let me try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note for when updates will happen. Since the school year has started and I am doing double the work I used to do in a public school, Thursday updates won't always happen. I'll try to get them out, but I do not guarantee anything. The most reliable updates now will be the ones on Mondays. Sometimes when I know I won't be able to get a chapter out on Monday I will take off the one I had ready for Thursday to post it on Monday instead.   
> Also I'm tracking fic:wishmaster on tumblr if anyone wants to gush about it there. :D Your reviews give me motivation to keep translating this. *coughalongwithbeta'skickingcough*


	12. No One Around

He was still there, at least part of him was. Resembling a fragile porcelain doll, with a deathly-pale face and closed eyes. So needed and so delicate. 

“Hello, Ryuzaki,” Light greeted L quietly and put a new lollipop into the glass on the little table, next to the one he brought previously. This lollipop was in a form of a strawberry-red, with green leaves. “Don’t want to see what I brought you? I see that you don’t…”

Light carefully sat down on the edge of the bed beside Ryuzaki. He looked closely at L’s face—he’d grown accustomed to doing that. Pale… Nearly bluish. Incredibly calm. Absolutely uncaring about the whole wave of emotions and feelings which attacked Kira.

Hanna really did as she promised, trying to create an artistic chaos on the head of the detective. Light smiled and moved a few strands, putting them a tiny bit differently. He was still surprised at how soft and silky Ryuzaki’s hair was to the touch. When they were chained together, Light always thought that that mess on his enemy’s head should be harsh, just like the personality of its owner. But he really missed a lot and didn’t understand much before. Too much. 

He moved a little bit closer and buried his hand in L’s hair. Slowly, he stroked the entire length, raising his hand and letting the strands fall. Enjoying the feeling. Carefully he moved the bangs away from Ryuzaki’s face, slightly, barely grazing Ryuzaki’s forehead with his fingertips. Then pushed some strands behind his ear. He was filled with an incredible feeling of peace, here, beside his sleeping enemy. And his chest didn’t hurt as much. 

“You have to return, Ryuzaki,” Light said quietly, “I never thought that I would say this… but I need you, I really, really need you.”

He fell silent, trying to understand what he just said. And after listening to himself he realized that he had said what he felt. Truth. For the first time in his life he admitted that he needed someone. Not just someone. Ryuzaki. L. The one who wanted to destroy him. 

Light moved the hand away from the detective’s face and lightly stroked his arm, which was laying on top of the blanket, with his finger from the shoulder to his palm. Touches gave him relief. Smothered the fire of emotions torturing him. Like Ryuzaki’s cold froze the heat which burned Kira up. Gave him cool. Gave him an opportunity to feel that L didn’t leave yet, that he was still here, near, alive. And Light was also still alive. 

“You shouldn’t have let me win, Ryuzaki.” Light carefully took his hand into his palms. “I didn’t know how heavy this victory would be. I didn’t know that it would be like… this. I should’ve known. How many victories did you have? What price do you pay for them?”

Light carefully covered the narrow, pale hand of the detective. Cold, like ice. Completely limp. He quietly held it, trying to warm up the thin, reticule fingers. In his heart hoping to feel at least a tiny movement in response. Not receiving even a hint of that happening. 

He sat there for a long time, letting his shoulders relax, holding detective’s hand in his, trying to gather his thoughts. He thought about if the great L paid for the victories with his emotions, feelings, his soul and burning feeling of emptiness. Because every single one of his cases he picked himself, from the thousands of requests all over the world pleading for his help. So every new case was exceptional. Every new criminal—unique. Able to interest L. Able to drag him into the case. Did Ryuzaki feel something when he sent off the case files to the archives? It was possible that his heart stayed cold and the victories were just opportunities to move onto the next puzzle. But they were similar. Then why was Light always able to hold onto his emotions and hide them, struggling so much to hide them now? What would L feel if he sent Kira to the electric chair? 

Light knew that in the next hour or two he wouldn’t be interrupted—before visiting Ryuzaki, he went to Watari and found out that he was going for the evening therapy. So Kira had a chance to be alone with L. To try and piece himself back together. Figure himself out. Understand what was going on. Or admit his defeat. But he couldn’t allow himself to give up. He was still Kira and maybe he was suffering but he was not giving up; he was still dreaming of conquering the world and he was still certain in his judgments. He just needed an enemy, an opposition where the truth could be both. Or a friend, able to support him. Able to listen and talk. A friend, wishing him dead. But able to understand. At least like that. For a little bit…

Light suddenly squeezed Ryuzaki’s hand tightly and, leaning down nearly right beside his face, brokenly whispered against L’s slightly open lips, trying to burn through the closed eyelids with his glare.

“Do you know what Kira is feeling right now? He is hurt. He was never hurt like this. And he is killing. He will kill again and again, until you wake up. Until the pain goes away!” Light’s eyes flashed and his voice rose a bit. “I will destroy the whole world, you hear?! I will destroy all of them and they will tremble and they will be afraid, they will be wishing for a death by heart attack! I will be merciless, I will tear them apart until you come back!”

He moved away again. His eyes were glaring red. If Ryuzaki could open his eyes and see Light right now, he wouldn’t have any doubts. “Kira,” he would whisper with one-hundred percent certainty. Light didn’t know anymore if he would be scared of that or if he would breathe with relief.

Stop. “Breathe.”

With a cold wave of terror Light suddenly realized that yesterday, even if he needed to listen closely, he could hear Ryuzaki’s breathing. Today he didn’t hear it at all, even if the monitor counted out the pulse and sowed the sharp line of his heartbeat. Feeling his blood run cold, Light carefully placed a hand on L’s chest and kept the second hand grasping the detective’s. He waited a few seconds and, not feeling anything, pressed harder. His palm felt the thin body and the poking-out ribs, from which his heart clenched with pain and gentleness. The cold of his body. Immobility. A moment, another one, feeling like eternity—and nearly missed movement, the ribcage moved slightly under the hand. Slightly and impossibly little, like the flutter of butterfly wings. And once more—stillness. Too long immobility, from which he wanted to howl and slap L around, make him breathe. Once again, broken movement. Still not understanding what was happening, but feeling the terror from the anticipation of something horrible and unfixable, Light slammed the button for an emergency call, at the same time listening closely and trying not to miss the next breath. 

The nurse on the watch today wasn’t familiar, not Yuki. She appeared nearly instantly. 

“He is nearly not breathing! I can barely catch his breaths!” Light told her worriedly, jumping at her sudden appearance.

“Don’t worry, he is connected to the detectors, and we are always recording his condition.” She tried to calm Light down, walked over to Ryuzaki and looked at the monitor to check the wires of the detectors. “If something critical happens, we’ll know about it that same second.”

Light, who used to be attentive, and seeing the most minor details, caught the slight lies in her actions. Too calm. Unneeded movement. And that since coming into the room she didn’t look at him, like she was avoiding to make eye contact. And also…

She came alone. Without a doctor. Despite the fact that it was an emergency call.

“Tell me, please, why are you alone?” He talked with a calm, monotone voice, looking closely at the badge with her name. No, he wasn’t going to kill her. It just became a habit, to remember peoples’ name if he had a chance to find them out. “I pushed the emergency call button, not the nurse, wasn’t his doctor supposed to come? What is going on?”

The nurse finally looked at him, and immediately looked away. Guilty.

“You should talk with our head doctor,” she said, avoiding the answer. “Come on, I’ll show you where. Watari-san, his guardian, put you down as a close person to the patient, so our head doctor will answer your questions.”

Light, feeling that something was being hidden from him, something really bad, made a step after her and only then realized that he was still tightly squeezing detective’s hand and that he nearly had drug him with them. Carefully putting L’s hand above the blanket, he once again lightly stroked the open palm.

“Don’t you dare to pull another trip, hear me? I am done, I am really done!” He hissed through his teeth, glaring at the pale face.

Light then hurried after the nurse, who had already left the room.


	13. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame me and thank my beta readers who somehow put up with me and edit this at night...

“An order to withhold resuscitation? You are joking?” Light, unable to hide his surprise, looked at the elderly head doctor, clearly confused. “So, you’re saying, that if his heart stops, you won’t reanimate him?”

The man tiredly took off his glasses and started to wipe them with a tissue. Ensured of their cleanliness, he put them back on and looked at Light. 

“We can’t. That will be breaking the law. No-resuscitation order is the legal right of every citizen. I don’t know the reason why your friend made sure to make this document, but we can’t do anything about it. I am sincerely sorry.”

Light was unable to believe what he just heard. The head doctor told him that Ryuzaki, going here in the documents as Ryuga Hideki, about a one and a half of a month ago made a huge donation to the hospital. At the same time he transferred the money over for deposit for medical treatment and all the needed care for him and his guardian Watari, in the case of his placement here. And signed the official order to withhold resuscitation in case of clinical death due to his heart stopping. Technically he left himself no chance of survival if Kira won. L was playing their game without a right for defeat. 

“Ryuga Hideki talked to our hospital through an agent, so we obviously didn’t know that the Ryuzaki, as you all call him, was our sponsor,” the doctor explained with an apologetic tone. _‘Yamada Toro,’_ Light read on the plank standing on the desk. For some reason he didn’t care at all what his name was. “As soon as he woke up, Watari-san helped us to sort everything out. Of course, your friend will receive only the best care which our clinic can provide. And we, of course, will continue the treatment… However, unfortunately it is not giving any results so far, but in my practice I saw some miracles.”

“Miracles?” Light repeated the last phrase instinctively. He couldn’t connect his thoughts, he felt bad, really bad, a little dizzy, even. The last few days had exhausted him completely and he didn’t have the strength to fight anymore. Fight what had started to grow within him. And what he couldn’t accept. That's why he was clinging to the words, trying to surface, trying to get back the feeling of the reality of everything that was happening around him. “You are trying to say that all we can do is hope for a miracle?”

His voice clearly sounded sarcastic. Light didn’t want to hold back anymore. About what miracles was this guy speaking? The Death Note didn’t work and he, Kira, fought with death above his enemy’s body, trying to make him breathe again, trying to revive the one he hated so much. Kira couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn't think normally — wasn’t that a miracle? Isn’t it a miracle that he, even though he had won, wasn’t able to savor the victory, wasn’t able to continue his mission? That the god of this world had returned, like a beaten dog, to that hospital bed in the hope his enemy had opened his eyes?

Apparently the firework of emotions showed in Light’s eyes, but the head doctor saw it differently. He saw a flash of hope. Light knew his role too well, could hide his feelings too well. The mask was put on too tightly. 

“Of course, there is always hope,” the doctor said gently, walking closer to Light. “I don’t want to lie to you, the position is very serious. Third degree coma — critical condition, breathing could stop any moment. His central nervous system is suppressed, brain has minimal activity, life supporting functions of his organism aren’t controlled. We can’t even be sure what is happening in his brain right now, if there are unfixable changes to his brain or not. But I repeat: there are cases of patients waking up from the deep coma and they are written about in details—many of them have a good conclusion.”

“But you can’t pull him out?” Light felt like he heard the words, but didn’t understand their meaning. 

“Sadly we can’t. We can only continue the therapy and hope that it works. A coma is one of the most difficult conditions, there are no tried and tested recommendations of pulling people out of it. Virtually we can only wait… Wait and hope that your friend will want to come back himself.”

“And that is the scientific recommendation?” Light wanted to hit this elderly doctor. His words sounded like mockery.

“We don’t have anything else.” The doctor shrugged. “It’s true that his condition has worsened—he is losing weight, he doesn’t answer to the therapy and his breathing rate dropped. But it's too early to stop. There is hope.”

“Do I understand it correctly? Just now you gently explained that he is… leaving?” Light lifted his head and looked at the man. “With this negative response, if there is no miracle, as you say, how long will he… keep breathing?”

“You see…” The doctor started again and took off his glasses, but Light interrupted him,

“I am just his friend. Not a close relative, or a family member. Please, tell me the truth.” 

The head doctor sighed and put his glasses back on. He walked up to Light and put a hand on his shoulder.

“If nothing changes, the maximum is a week. That's the maximum. In reality it can happen at any moment. My advice is, if you want to tell him something, tell it now. Maybe he’ll hear you.” 

* * *

Light didn’t remember how he walked back to the room. He closed the door and weakly leaned against it, looking at the body laying on the bed. _‘What did this game mean for you if you didn’t leave yourself a chance for defeat? You called me a friend, you built plans for Kira’s capture, we caught Higuchi’s trail and your eyes lit up with the excitement of the chase, but you sent an agent to sign an order to withhold resuscitation. So you didn’t believe? Always felt the lies? But I didn’t lie to you. When I had no memory, I didn’t lie. I thought you were my friend. But you didn't believe? Even then?’_

Light pushed himself away from the door and slowly walked up to the bed. He sat down on the edge of it and carefully stroked the hollow cheek, feeling the smoothness of the skin and its chill. Right now, looking back, he remembered how often, easily and calmly L spoke about his possible death, making everyone shiver. Like it was something mundane. Natural. Not a drop of fear, not even a minimal attempt to take down the risk and move aside. He took his death as just one of the many outcomes. 

Like another proof of Light’s guilt. So he allowed the possibility that Kira might win? Or did he give the victory to him, not wishing to pay the price?

“What kind of person are you, L?” Light, for some time, stared down into the pale face, trying to find the answers. “What did you feel while playing with me? Did you want to die? Or kill me? And how am I supposed to live with this if you leave?”

Unable to take this torture any longer, seeing that the one who can give the answers, who is so needed right now, is still far away and indifferent. Unable to control the feeling suffocating him, Light suddenly hugged Ryuzaki’s helpless body. Light embraced him with one arm, pulling L up from the bed to press the man to himself. The second hand held the raven’s head, which tried to fall back, against his shoulder. The subtle smell of vanilla completely destroyed his will, crushing the remaining self control. So Light, hiding his face in the soft hair of his enemy, buried with his nose against his cold neck and quietly began to sob, unable to control the stream of emotions which tore him apart. With these tears he let go of all that pain which had gathered up in his soul, all that despair from his own betrayal, all that bitterness and disappointment from the imperfection of this world, where two people who really need each other can’t just become friends. From the fact that the abyss dividing them—is huge, that their principles are unshakable and that both of them aren’t able to make compromises, that both of them don’t want to, or just can’t, simply talk to each other. He held the bony body close, feeling his coldness, the fragility of his body, his helplessness right now and Light wanted to sob even more because of the fact that his enemy is so vulnerable and defenseless. From the understanding that Ryuzaki is leaving. Was ready to leave from the very beginning. 

“Why? Why did you do it?” Light whimpered against Ryuzaki’s neck. “Why did you write the document?”

The tears gave some relief. Light didn’t remember when the last time he cried was, though it was probably long ago, during his childhood. But right now it got easier. He didn’t even feel any anger or embarrassment about such a show of weakness. He sat quietly, unable to let go of the detective, still holding him close, but without the tears, without the sobs. Still his nose pressed against the now slightly-wet-from-the-tears neck. He enjoyed this feeling of closeness. Gently playing with the soft dark hair. Wishing to stop time, so even if like that, but to hold L back in this world. Beside him. 

Suddenly a terrifying thought came across his mind that, in embracing Ryuzaki this tightly, he could suffocate him. That the detective would stop breathing. _‘An order to withhold resuscitation.’_ The alarm bell went off in his mind. Light felt the hair on the back of his neck raise from fear. Cursing himself for weak self-control and stupidity, he carefully put L back down on the bed and gently laid his head on the pillow. He moved away the hair which fell on his face. Tiredly wiped dry his eyes. He gently put a hand on Ryuzaki’s chest, catching the miserable fluttering of the ribcage, and quietly whispered, “Please don’t go, L. I really need you.”

* * *

Watari came into the room once it had gotten dark. He found Light sitting on his knees beside the bed. His hands were around one of Ryuzaki’s, one hand’s fingers intertwined with his and his chin laid on the hands, elbows on the bed-prayer pose. His gaze was glued to the monitor where a rough line quietly crawled across the black display and flickered the numbers from detective’s vital activity. 

“Good evening, Light,” Watari greeted quietly, and, walking to Ryuzaki’s bed, sat down on the nearby chair. 

“Good evening.” His voice sounded detached. He turned his head and looked up at the elderly man with red, puffy, tired eyes. “Tell me, did you know? Did you know that he signed the contract?”

“The no-resuscitation order? Yes, I knew that,” answered Watari calmly. 

Light didn’t understand how he could be so calm. After the recent expression of emotions and tears Kira was completely exhausted, smashed, destroyed. He felt apathetic and depressed. He was losing an enemy. How could Watari be so calm losing… a son? A student? Light didn’t know who L actually was to Watari. But the never-ending father-like love of the elderly man towards the messy genius was obvious to everyone. L was Watari’s life, Light had no doubts about that. But right now Watari didn’t exhibit any panic or worry. 

“They told me that he is getting worse. That his breathing could stop any minute. That they won’t reanimate him. Why did he do it?”

“Light,” the man put his hand on Light’s shoulder. “It’s simple. Do you really not understand? You know Ryuzaki rather well now.”

“He said that he hates to lose. He didn’t want to be saved if Kira wins? Didn’t want to live, knowing that he lost?” Light felt that his eyes started to prickle again. But for some reason he didn’t feel embarrassed showing these emotions in front of Watari. Didn’t felt embarrassed about his pain. Kira didn’t want to put on the cold, expressionless mask right now. He wanted to be himself, squeezing the cold, pale hand, trying to find the answers. 

“Lose?” Watari raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Light, investigation is not a game. Lives are on the line, destinies are destroyed. Ryuzaki knew it and was always ready to sacrifice himself for other people. For justice. But that's not why. He knew that Kira kills with a heart attack. Though, there is still a possibility of reanimation. But in cases of clinical death, there are high chances of injury to the brain. Ryuzaki didn’t want to return to life if he couldn’t work. If he lost his unique abilities. He didn’t want to risk it. That's why he excluded such a possibility. You see, everything is simple… and logical.”

“But why did you let him?” asked Light in despair. “Maybe that was his chance for survival? The only one he had?”

“Let him?” Watari asked with a soft smile. “Light, you can’t forbid Ryuzaki from something. He always does what he wants. I am just happy that he lets me be near.”

Light lowered his head, touching the intertwined fingers with his lips. His were so hot and Ryuzaki’s way too cold. The hopeless feeling didn’t leave him.

“Watari.” It was still easier to speak rather than sit there in the pressing silence. “How can you be so calm? Because if he stops breathing, no one will try to help him. He… He’ll die.”

“I got used to respecting his decisions.” However, Light did catch a quiet sigh from the elderly man. “If he wants to leave, I’ll accept that. But I still hope, I really hope, that he wakes up. That he will feel that he is needed here. That I am waiting and won’t dare to leave.”

“You believe in a miracle?” Light asked quietly. He already knew the answer and already knew that the seeming calm of the elderly man is pain, burning pain, maybe even worse than his own, hidden under the acceptance. 

“I do.” He answered softly.

“Then I’ll also believe.” Light shook his head, getting his bangs out of his face and turned back to the displays.


	14. Second Dream

The icy wind was chilling right down to the bones, tearing the white shirt and tossing around hair. Heavy, dark clouds moved across the low sky, passing each other, layering heavily, not giving any hope for sunlight. It smelled of moisture and nearby rain.

Shivering from the cold, Light looked around, trying to understand where he was. Everywhere, as far as he could see, was dry, burnt white ground. Not a single grass blade, or even a bush. There were some black, dry trees and their branches looked like dead arms, stretching up to the sky in a prayer. It was quiet, really quiet. The only thing Light could hear was the howling of the wind, gushes of which picked and raised up the white sand, twisting it into small tornadoes which immediately fell apart. From all of this monochrome, grey landscape spread the coldness of emptiness. Loneliness. Piercing, searing loneliness. Light felt uncomfortable. He wanted to hide somewhere and escape from the wind. 

To the side a lone structure was visible, rising above ground level. A pile of huge rocks—dark grey, nearly black, strange and incorrect forms. It wasn’t clear how they could appear there, because nowhere else in sight were mountains, ravines, or rivers—only a valley, emptied by the cold, with small hollows and low hills. It seemed like the stone blocks were put together in an uneven pyramid by the hand of some unknown god. They gave off even more chill. But it was the only visible place to hide, where he could escape the harsh blasts of wind and try to warm up a little. 

Light headed towards the stones, carefully stepping on the cracked ground. Each one of his steps raised a small cloud of white dust. It seemed as if at any moment the ground could fall down under him. 

A new gust of wind threw a column of white sand and Light jerked back, putting his hand up to shield his eyes. He then saw through the dust, there, ahead, behind the rocks, a crouched and curled up figure. He wouldn’t mistake him for anyone. Still not believing himself, he ran forward, strangely falling into the dust, tripping over the uneven ground, squinting to prevent the sand and wind from hurting his eyes, but not letting his gaze move from the goal. 

Ryuzaki sat in his beloved pose, leaning against the rocks, his outstretched arms on his knees and his face hidden between them. The dark, overhanging stone protected him only a little from the blasts of wind and the weak air flow which got past slightly moved his messy raven hair. Light ran up to him, breathing heavily and stopped in confusion. For a second it appeared like the figure in front of him was unmoving, that it was still, frozen in this cold desert and that if he touched it, it would crumble into dust, becoming just another part of the eternal, white sand. Tensing from fear, Light carefully touched the shoulder in the white, stretched-out shirt.

“Ryuzaki…”

There was no nightmare. The body of his enemy didn’t crumble into dust, didn’t drop like a lifeless doll. 

Ryuzaki flinched and raised his sleepy face. He tiredly rubbed his nose on the arm, which was still holding his knee. Then he turned to Light, looking up at him with painfully familiar eyes, with those huge, black pupils and impossibly thin dark-grey iris. 

“Ah, Raito-kun. Why did you come?” It was a quiet, calm voice.

Not a hint of surprise. Like they went apart only since yesterday, wishing each other good night. Like there was no horror in these past few days. Like there was no hospital bed in a hospital ward occupied with his cold, unmoving body. 

Light felt stupid under the attentive gaze of the detective. Breathless from the run, disheveled, all covered in the white dust, crumpled shirt—he looked incredibly out of place and awkward to even himself, in the middle of this cold, empty plain, next to the cold tranquillity of L. His head pounded with the knowledge of this not being real, but he forcibly pushed it away, trying to stay here, near by him. He got down on his knees in front of L and put his hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes.

“I was searching for you, Ryuzaki. What are you doing here?” Light’s fingers felt the bony shoulders and how the muscles tensed at his touch. “Waiting.” Still monotone calm voice.

Straight gaze, eye to eye. Light looked into the darkness of those eyes, feeling his self-control return. He felt like he lost something earlier, some parts of himself and now they were recovering, coming together like the parts of a puzzle and putting him back together. Giving him an opportunity to ask an obvious question. 

“You are waiting for me?” Light felt his heart tighten with hope. 

Just one answer…one word, “yes,” and he was ready to stay here, in the middle of this freezing desert, next to his enemy. Stay forever, despite the cold. Sit next to, nestle up to, try to give some warmth and hide together from the wind under the strange, cold stones. Watch how the heavy, dark clouds flew across the low, grey sky, wait for the rain, which could possibly liven up this dead, dried-up ground.

Light wanted to hear an answer so badly that he nearly missed it.

“No,” calmly answered a pair of thin lips. L glanced to the side, at Light’s hands, which still held his shoulders. Looked up. “Waiting until you let me go.”

Stunned, Light lowered his hands. Ryuzaki moved away a little, increasing the distance between their faces, which had been far too close merely a second ago. Just as usual, L brought his thumb to his mouth, biting down on his nail. Observing Light. Holding the pause. Light was silent. 

“You understand what I am talking about, right?” Finally, Ryuzaki broke the windy silence. 

It was so like him, to speak in clues, in unfinished words, words with double meaning. And wait to see if Light would see the truth behind the phrase. Light continued to be silent, hanging his head, not wanting to understand, not wanting to get drug into this word game. He didn’t want to play anymore. For him, the time for games had ended. It seemed as if Ryuzaki had heard his thoughts. There was a sigh. 

“Let me go, Light. Please.” Just a quiet whisper. “Stop holding me back.” 

Light forced himself to raise his head and look at him, expecting for their gazes to meet. But Ryuzaki was looking away, to the side, at the cold plain, nibbling on his fingernail. He had this aura of calmness. Peace. Eternity. 

“No,” Light answered firmly, straightening.

It was uncomfortable to sit on his knees so he changed the position, sitting down on the ground and pulling his knees to himself. Ryuzaki glanced at him and moved his gaze away again, looking for something at the horizon. 

“You don’t have a choice.” He said calmly, still thoughtfully biting his thumb. “You can’t keep me.”

“I will.”

“You don’t have a chance.”

“I don’t care. I won’t let you go.”

“This is hilarious, Raito-kun.” Ryuzaki finally turned to him, his gaze fixated on him now, as if looking into his soul. 

He slowly moved his hand away from his mouth. And just as slowly, not looking away from Light, stood up, just as usual standing with a hunch, hands put away in his pockets. Still controlling with his gaze. In his movements, his actions, his dilated pupils, which made his eyes completely black, Light felt a hidden threat. Growing frustration. Light also stood up, accepting the silent challenge, feeling how the tension between them grew. Like the air is thickening and there could be some electricity sparks in it. He recognized this feeling. Their eternal animosity, their eternal irreconcilability—an eternal rivalry in everything. They stood at the distance of a step, the wind tossing around their hair, tearing their clothes, howling and burying them in clouds of sand and dust. They didn’t look away from each other. It seemed like one more moment and they’d jump each other.

“Think of yourself as God… Kira?” Ryuzaki’s voice was still even, calm, but his eyes—hatred. Hatred towards the one who once again was in his way. Destroying the plans. Not letting him go.

 “I am God, L.” Mockingly smiling at him, Light answered. He was tired of playing hide and seek. There was too much at stake. He was ready to flip his cards. “God of the New World.”

He made half a step forward, getting closer. Ryuzaki watched him silently, waiting continuation, not making any attempts to step away. Light made another step, coming nearly right up against him. Now there were mere centimeters between them. Faces nearly touching. 

“Only you know that, L.” Light held his breath. “Without you the world is too boring for Kira.”

He fell silent, breathing out that confusion, looking into those dark eyes and waiting for an answer. But Ryuzaki was silent, not looking away. Then Light carefully hugged his enemy, pulling him close. He felt how L flinched at the unexpected action and buried his face in the thick, black hair, breathing in that already familiar scent of vanilla. Crossing the entire sky, lightning flashed, hitting the ground somewhere not that far away. The thunder hit so hard that it felt like the dried up ground wouldn’t hold on and would start to crack, sliding apart with ugly cracks. Another strong gust of icy wind threw up a whole cloud of white dust. Light stood, holding Ryuzaki close, who still hadn’t even pulled his hands out of his pockets and thought that no force would make him step away.

“I am ready to give up my whole world just so you come back.” He whispered quietly in L’s ear. “Kira is ready to give up. You win.” 

Ryuzaki shrugged, freeing himself from the embrace. He moved away slightly, so it was easier to look each other in the face. And looked sadly at Light from underneath the messy bangs. A memory stabbed Kira like a needle, he already saw that gaze, back then, on the staircase. Gaze which for some reason aside from sadness and regret, held guilt. Ryuzaki was saying goodbye? He was… saying goodbye again? As if proving the suspicion, L pulled a hand out of his pocket and carefully touched Light’s cheek with his finger. Almost gently. Almost guilty. 

“I have nothing to give for the whole world. Forgive me.” 

He took a step back, increasing the distance between them. Then another, and another. With horror, Light understood that his enemy was walking away. Slowly leaving him, leaving him alone on the cold, uncomfortable plain, full of loneliness. Loneliness from which there was nowhere to hide from. 

Understanding of what this place was came by itself. They were in his new world. A world created by Kira. Filled with the ashes of those who had died by the hands of the new God. 

Another step back. L turned his back to him, ready to disappear. 

“Ryuzaki, come back!” Light rushed after him, trying to grab him, trying keep his friend from leaving, the only person close to him, but another powerful thunder strike shook the ground, and his bony figure suddenly crumbled into a cloud of white sand, which was immediately pulled up with another gust of wind. 

* * *

Light woke up from his own scream, gasping for air, on a pillow, which was wet from his sweat. For a few minutes he just laid there, recovering from the nightmare, going over the details of the dream, coming back to reality. Suddenly he jerked up, trying to find his phone in a panic, with terror realizing that in his deep sleep he could’ve missed a call. 

The phone was found under the pillow. With relief Light saw that there were no missed calls. That meant that Watari didn’t call. That meant that the worst thing hadn’t happened yet. The messy detective was still breathing in his deep sleep. 

Yesterday, when late in the evening Watari asked Light why he wasn’t going home, Yagami honestly confessed that he had nowhere to go. He couldn’t and didn’t want to be with other people, didn’t want to answer their questions, to talk to anyone. The elderly man, sympathetically looking at him, suggested he stay at the headquarters. Light accepted, even if above all he just wanted to stay beside his enemy, beside his possible, but not quite, friend. But to confess all that to Watari was above his willpower.

He didn’t dare to go into Ryuzaki’s room last night, the one which they shared some time ago. He was scared that he wouldn’t be able to withstand the feelings of guilt, loss and loneliness, which kept crowding his thoughts with that place any time he thought about it. And that's why he went to another place which was familiar to him—Misa’s former room, which also carried memories, but wasn’t full of the feeling of loss.

But right now, after the nightmare he had endured in his sleep, it was necessary for Light to feel Ryuzaki’s presence. To touch something that his hand has touched. Dip into the memories. 

And he, after quickly washing, then squeezing a phone in one hand, headed for L’s room


	15. Room

He was not here. That feeling flooded Light as soon as he stepped through the doorframe. 

The room which he was so scared to go into, which, by his intuition, held so many memories, that they would all come back the moment he stepped inside, happened to be completely faceless. Alien. Robbed of the past. Same light walls, light carpet, furniture, huge working desk with three thin monitors, hidden in the wall closet with mirror sliding doors. Shelves, filled with an unthinkable amount of books. Big comfy armchairs. Coffee table, which always had a pile of sweets on it, but now completely empty.

An ideal cleanness everywhere. Not a single candy wrapper laying around. Not a piece of paper. Or even a forgotten pencil on the desk. No, Ryuzaki always stood out with his obsession with cleanliness and neatness, which somehow lived alongside with his disinterest for his appearance. He always meticulously put things in their designated places. Books—always on the same shelves, in the same order, in which they stood previously. Pencils and pens—in the glass on the desk. Papers, after he stopped working on them—in neat, absolutely even stacks. Despite that, when they lived here together some minor details still put an appearance of a mess in the ideal tidiness of the room. Light always felt like everything had the chaotic spirit of their owner. Then—when Ryuzaki was here, and Kira wasn’t—this place seemed really cozy to Light, like it was created for long hours of work and late night talks with a cup of tea. 

But now… Not a single thing reminded of the recent owner of this room, that the great detective L lived here. The genius with messy black hair. The room looked like a faceless hotel room. A room which was already cleaned, scrubbed clean, forever erasing the traces of the previous guest. A cold, featureless place, ready for a new owner to move in. Or for eternal emptiness.

A thought suddenly dawned to him and Light rushed to the bathroom. He froze, leaning against the doorframe. No toothbrush. No bottles of shampoos and body lotions. No huge, white terry towels, in which Ryuzaki loved to wrap himself nearly head to toe in after a shower. Nothing. Only the barely-present scent of cleaning chemicals, destroying all other scents. Ideal cleanness. Depersonalized.

Already knowing what he would see, but still hoping for something, Light returned to the room and opened the closet. Empty. Empty shelves, empty hangers. Like this closet was never divided into two even halves between Ryuzaki and Light, like there never was a row of formless, white shirts, invoking a smile at the sight of the variety of wardrobe the grand genius had. Like Light never, after obtaining freedom, took his clothes out of this closet while trying to prolong the time—glancing over at his enemy, secretly hoping that his leaving was causing some pain. Like they themselves, chained together, always at war yet always feeling sympathy towards each other, never happened in this room. 

Shocked, Light sat down on the edge of the bed, unable to believe it. This meant that L knew. Knew how much he risked planning this experiment. He was sure that his enemy was still behind his back, only a step away. What were the percentages of his death in his head? Surely no less than seventy, otherwise he wouldn’t have asked Watari to destroy all the traces of his stay. Erase all the evidence of the detective with the strange name L even being in Tokyo. Tear away all the strings which would be able to shine light on him-a real, alive human being, a messy genius with a weakness for sweets.

To leave only the faceless image tied to the letter L.

That fact that was Watari who cleaned up L’s room, Light had no doubts in. He tried to imagine what the elderly man had felt upon hearing this request from his ward. What he felt, packing the things, wiping furniture, making the untouched bed. Erasing all the traces of his existence where he lived. What it cost him to keep the calm, emotionless mask on and watch how L carries out the experiment, which he certainly understood was likely L’s last. How grand must his love be that he carried out such a request? Did L allow the elderly man to express at least some feelings? Did he give him an opportunity to hug him, to say goodbye?

Light was certain that the answer was no. That the request (or order?), to destroy, just in case, the traces of his existence, was said in his usual monotone. Like something obvious. Just another safety net for the secrets in case of an unfortunate outcome from the experiment. Just a job which had to be done. Only this unfortunate outcome—death. And the elderly man couldn’t not understand that Ryuzaki, in his desperate decision, was risking not only his own life but his life as well. What kind of steel willpower must Watari have if he, without flinching, without doubts, went with the detective to the end. 

Light questioned himself if he was capable of such unending trust and self-sacrificing support for someone. His father? His mother? His sister? To himself he could admit that no, he wouldn’t allow such a risk, he wasn’t ready to sacrifice himself, unable to support a such decision. Just like he couldn’t sacrifice himself for his idea, his goal—to make this world better. He was ready to give anything for it, even his family, but not his own life. But L… He could. Light grasped his head in despair.

“Idiot, idiot, you are such an idiot!” He groaned sadly. “Why didn’t you retreat, why?!”

He couldn’t retreat. 

Because Ryuzaki wasn’t Kira. Because he had no doubts in his  righteousness . Saved, not destroyed. Because he was stronger. Light was ready to accept all these facts. But they brought him no relief. 

Light slid down from the bed and sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the bed and pulling his knees up to himself. His hands grasped his hair. He wanted to close up, leave, defend, give himself a short break. To stop thinking about Ryuzaki. Stop trying to imagine his thoughts, stop trying to understand him. He couldn’t. His thoughts kept circling back and back toward the detective. 

What did Ryuzaki feel on his last night, realizing that he could die tomorrow? What would he, Light, feel? What did L want to say, back then, on the roof? And what did he expect from Light?

Questions went around in his brain like hurricane, like an insane merry go round, causing a near physical pain. And apotheosis—a memory about the helpless, falling body, a last glance, hidden behind those black eyelashes, the sweet aftertaste of the other’s lips. It was unbearable. Light tried to force the memory flow onto another course. Tried to imagine some moments from their life here, in this room. When Light didn’t remember that they were enemies, when Ryuzaki thought of him as a friend. Or pretended to think so…

It had to be admitted that they didn’t go together really well. But they tried to adapt to each other. Value the other’s habits and weaknesses. Give at least some form of comfort for the other in their difficult position of being chained together. Argued to infinity. Exhausted each other with psychological experiments, played each other’s nerves. Studied. Analyzed. Fought. Worked together. Drank tea in the long hours of the evening with incredibly delicious cookies baked by Watari. 

A sudden phone call felt deafeningly loud, exploding the reality. From the suddenness of it and fright, Light jumped, dropped the phone and tried to catch it for a long time, but couldn’t. The phone dropped on the carpet, continuing to torture his head with an unnaturally loud melody. Light hesitated, not daring to pick up, scared that he’ll hear the worst. That the one who is occupying his thoughts doesn’t exist anymore. Only then his exhausted consciousness realized that the melody playing is the one for his father’s calls.

“Yes?” Light surprised himself with how tired his voice sounded.

“Light?” answered his father’s worried voice on the other end of the line. “Is that you?”

“Yes, dad, it’s me.” Light tiredly looked over at the clock. Eight in the morning. Watari would be taken into therapy soon, he had to get to the clinic so Ryuzaki wouldn’t be alone. 

“How are you son? We are worried about you.” His father coughed. “I called Watari, he told me the latest news.”

“I am fine.” Light tried to force calmness and certainty into his voice. With a familiar gesture he pulled out the teaspoon from the pocket of his jacket and started turning it in his hand. It was calming. “I am ready to go to the hospital.”

“Uh, um…” His father sounded uncertain, but still asked the question. “Light, today is Saturday, are you and Misa coming over for dinner?”

Light was stunned. For a few moments he couldn’t find how to respond. Did his father now understand how out of place the question sounded? The cold voice of his consciousness answered that of course not. Did Light ever ruin his plans for someone? Betray his habits? Could he cancel a date with his girlfriend to visit a friend in a hospital? No, never. Well, he never even had friends. So how would his father know what flood of emotions his cold and always calm son was feeling? How the feeling of guilt and loss is burning him up inside. How scared he was to pick up the call?

His father had nowhere to know that from. He called his brilliant son, Light, for whom there was nothing more important than his own well-being. His father called Kira.

“No, sorry dad, we won’t be coming tonight. I have to be in the hospital. You understand? I have to.” Light tried to speak as softly as possible. Trying not to offend his dad.

“I understand, son.” Light thought he heard… relief in his father’s voice. “Tell me…can we help with anything?” 

Light thought that he had to say something usual. Something polite—whatever people say in such situations. But he couldn’t. Just like he couldn’t hide the waver in his voice.

“No one can help him now. The doctors said… that we can only wait. And we are waiting.”

At the other end of the call was silence. The chief of police was scared of the change in his son’s voice.

Too quick of a chance. Too striking. He was lost. Yagami Shoichiro had no idea how to speak with this Light. With his egoistic son who for the first time had a friend and now was losing him. With disappointment, he understood that he had no idea how to speak openly with someone who he had gotten used to thinking of as an ideal child. 

But Light had already collected himself. Inspecting the tea spoon, which he held in front of his eyes, he spoke as if he was addressing i—calmly, with his usual, cold, collected voice.

“But I believe that despite whatever conclusion Ryuzaki was waiting for, we need to do everything in our power to catch Kira. For L’s sake… or in his memory. I will spend a lot of time in the clinic for now. Take management of the headquarters on yourself. We need to take revenge on this murder, whatever it takes!”

“Yes, Light, of course,” Shoichiro answered, somewhat embarrassed, “We will be doing everything we can. You are right.”

“Good. I have to go, dad.” Kira squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep his calm demeanor.  He was glad no one was able to see him right now. 

“Yes… Wait, Light. Watari asked to tell you that if you want you can use Ryuzaki’s laptop. It’s connected to the general network. So there are means to work outside the building. It should be somewhere in that room where you lived… back then.”

“Yes? Watari is really kind. I will use this offer. It’s really useful.” Light’s voice was completely calm. “That way I can work with you from the clinic. Alright, dad, I really have to go now. I’ll call later. Bye.”

“Goodbye. Take care.”

Light nearly didn’t hear his father’s last words. Snapping the phone shut, he angrily threw it at the wall and hid his face in his knees, trying to contain a scream. His hands shook. Watari gave him the laptop. L’s sanctuary, his loyal helper, with which the genius never parted. On which he worked through the late nights, curled up on the floor beside the bed where Light slept. With which he calmly waited for Light to exit the shower, sitting on the cold floor of the bathroom. The exact one he glanced over impatiently when they took too long drinking tea. The laptop which was closed off from the world with a difficult series of passwords. Which had access to all the secret databases. Hiding a huge amount of information. Possibly, hiding the real L.

And now, like a normal, unneeded thing it was given over to Kira. That meant that there was no Ryuzaki in it anymore. He was melting, disappearing from this world. Turning into sand.


	16. Strange Murder

“Good morning, Watari.” Just as usual, Light greeted them as he walked into the room, putting the briefcase with the laptop on the couch. 

He found it standing near the desk, in a room now completely alien. The notebook didn't have a password. There was no data. It was reformatted, completely prepared to be handed over to its new owner. 

“Good morning, Light,” Watari answered softly.

The older gentleman was sitting near the bed and was quietly petting L’s head with a slightly shaking hand, thinking about something. There was so much care, fatherly gentleness and love in these simple motions that Light’s eyes threatened to water and he hurriedly to turn away. 

But his mind readily offered an image of Watari sitting next to a child’s bed, gently petting the small head with the messy black hair of his difficult ward, who didn’t want to go to sleep, and looked up from under the blanket with huge, sparkling eyes. Light had no idea if Watari took care of L from childhood and what kind of relationship they had, but the picture in his head was so vivid and bright that he immediately believed it and wasn’t able to doubt its reality. Because of that, the pain became even worse—to his own pain was added the nearly-sensible feeling of Watari’s pain, who was gentle with the sleeping Ryuzaki. A genius detective, who once upon a time was just an unsociable little boy, who even then was impossible to control and who you could only love and stay near. A child, who sincerely believed that the world could be saved with kindness and that justice is same for everyone. In whose eyes still shone enthusiasm and curiosity, pupils which weren’t impossibly dilated and a interest toward people which wasn’t narrowed down to the interest of an observer. 

Light ordered himself to stop. To imagine this person as a touching, helpless child, a person who he sentenced to death, was beyond his power. It was a torture which even he couldn’t bear. He had to stop this rushing flow of thoughts and distract himself with something. Otherwise… Light started to feel like he was going insane from the suffocating feelings of guilt and loss. Actually go insane.

He took out another another lollipop he had purchased in the shop and, walking up to the nightstand, put it in the glass. A big, translucent yellow bear, which immediately happily reflected the light around the bright white room of the hospital. Without turning, still standing with his back to Watari, he quietly said, “There is a handmade candy shop here, next to the clinic. I never saw that many sweets in one place. If… When Ryuzaki returns, I would like to bring him there…”

He turned around and met Watari’s eyes. His kind smile. And sadly thought of who needed this lie more—this vain hope and desperate attempt to continue to believe. 

“He’ll come back, Light.” Calmly and with unbelievable certainty, Watari answered. “And I am sure that he’ll love to visit the shop with you.”

Light gave an exhausted smile and hurried to find the right words, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. The great Kira completely lost the ability to hold conversation. Exactly at that moment, when it was absolutely necessary for him to speak, about anything, it didn’t matter, just so he could distract himself from his thoughts. Thoughts which swirled around in his brain like a hurricane, over and over coming back to the same thing. An image from the dream. How Ryuzaki’s figure had crumbled into sand.

“I found the laptop.” He finally found something to latch onto. “Thank you for letting me use it. It will really help our work—I can continue working even while being here.” 

“Laptop?” It seemed like Watari was a little surprised. “Ah yes, I’ll show you how to connect to the headquarters network.”

It was obvious that the elderly man was also glad for the distraction. An opportunity to do something simple, something mundane. Just to pretend that everything is alright and is going how it’s supposed to. He carefully moved a strand of hair from Ryuzaki’s face and got up heavily. 

They sat down on the couch together and, turning on the laptop, started the connection to the headquarters. Light sat beside Watari and thought how he felt peaceful sitting there, next to him, calm and… not so lonely. Next to him he was not alone, one on one with his torturous feeling of guilt and loss. They had a shared pain. But at the same time it was like a glass wall was between him and Watari—his involvement. He carried the burden of an executor, unable to forget about it, or tell anyone and divide it. Right now he realized, vividly like no time before, that if Ryuzaki doesn’t wake up and doesn’t start his game of the Kira investigation, this burden will destroy him eventually. It will crush Light, turning him into nothing, a petty thing unable to resist. He will start making mistakes, one after another. With that Kira will be doomed. They will find out.

Light, not taking his eyes off the laptop’s screen, lowered his hand and squeezed the teaspoon in the pocket of his jacket. No. If someone is worthy of victory over Kira, it’s only L.

Watari connected the laptop to the headquarters’ network and showed Light how to stop and restart the connection whenever it was necessary. He helped to put up a new password. This simple action resonated in dull sadness in Light’s soul. It was like he was erasing L. Taking his place. His plan was becoming a reality, but the only thing Kira wanted right now was to turn back time. 

Watari left for therapy, leaving Light alone with Ryuzaki. Light moved the big, leather armchair right next to the bed, so he could work and observe the monitors at the same time. So he could touch him, convincing himself that Ryuzaki still didn’t leave him all alone. That he was still here, and his light, unnoticeable breathing was still giving them ghostly hope.

“Ryuzaki, at least stay like this,” whispered Light, leaning down to the pale, unmoving face. “Just a part of you. Give me a chance to at least be next to you, to see you. Don’t disappear, please.”

He reached out a hand and, like Watari did previously, pet the black hair. Stroked his cheek, running his hand down to the sharp chin. Stroked his shoulder and slowly ran his fingers down the arm, down the nearly-translucent, pale skin, showing his blue veins. And, in the end, squeezed the detective’s palm in both of his own hands.

Light sat like that for some time, in silence, listening to the quiet beeping of the monitors and holding Ryuzaki’s hand. There was nowhere to hurry to and he didn’t want to do anything. Right now, as he sat here, holding his enemy’s hand, his thoughts weren’t scattered around in a mess, causing incredible pain. He was submerged in a quiet, deep sorrow. Even though this was giving him a break from the exhausting worries. It was like Ryuzaki was protecting him, covering the grief, gifting him with tranquility. Dulling the feeling of guilt. He was here, close, and Light felt it. And he was enjoying his presence.

Out of nowhere, another thought came that Ryuzaki was disappointed in Kira. This thought was so deafening and absurd that it confused Light.

Disappointed? In Kira? _‘I am going insane,’_ Light groaned in his mind. But the more he thought about it, the less absurd it seemed and the more it became real. In the end it formed into a concrete understanding. L really could be disappointed in Kira if he saw him right now. Completely crushed, emptied. Uncertain in his justice. Unable to move forward to his goal. Kira, who was desperately regretting what he did. He was… pitiful. Would L fight to the end with such an opponent? Would he look at him as an equal to himself, able to challenge his genius? Of course not. Shrugging, the great detective L would completely reject the investigation, leaving it on the shoulders of the Japanese Police. Knowing Ryuzaki, Light was sure that a weak and uncertain-in-himself opponent wouldn’t pique his interest. Wouldn’t give him the excitement of the chase. Wouldn’t bring the satisfaction of winning. That meant that he didn’t deserve his attention. 

If L saw Kira right now, he’d probably ask himself—why did he risk life that? For what did he put everything on the line, including his life? So he could corner this pitiful being, which was already curled up from unbearable sadness and ready to reject his ideals and goals? _‘This is ridiculous, Raito-kun.’_ Yes, Ryuzaki would be disappointed. Light felt like another wave of anger come over him. 

“I don’t care what you think!” In anger he threw the detective’s hand back down. “I don’t give a shit if you are disappointed or not! I can’t play with a ghost! And don’t you dare scold me!”

He jumped up, putting a knee on the bed and hovering above Ryuzaki with his hands on both sides of his head. 

“You are disappearing,” he nearly hissed it, “disappearing from everywhere! And you don’t care what pain you are causing! You never cared about anything other than your damn game! Not about people, emotions, or life. Investigative machine! But I—I am alive! I am a living human, L, and I am hurt! Do you understand that? I am hurt!”

He angrily straightened, breathing heavily. There was not enough air. If L woke right now, Light would probably punch him. With full force, right in the jaw, not sparing his sharp face. Expressing all that destructive hurricane of emotions which was tearing him apart. For a second he felt like the walls moved, the air thickened, compressing the space around him. The space in which they were locked in together, alone against the world. One on one.

One of them was falling into the abyss, pulling the other after him in the insane fall, clutching in a deathly embrace. 

The stillness of the pale face sobered him up. Ryuzaki wasn’t here and he didn’t hear him. Whatever feelings tortured Light, no matter how much he thrashed around the room like a cornered animal, he was still here alone. His friend, his enemy, his opponent was somewhere else right now. Possibly in the cold world full of ash from his dream. What really was the difference—was he disappointed in Kira, or satisfied with the crushing blow which he delivered, if he never came back?

Light sat on the edge of the bed, tired, and carefully hugged Ryuzaki’s thin, bony body, barely touching. Afraid to cause any harm.

“Just don’t go, Ryuzaki. Just don’t leave. I won’t disappoint you, I promise. You didn’t see everything I am capable of yet. Just come back and Kira will rise. You won’t be bored, I’ll be trying. I’ll be trying really hard.” He whispered, nearly gently, into the raven hair, lulling, persuading, like telling a story before bedtime.

He understood how strange the promises he was giving were.

* * *

It was around midday when Light finally moved away from Ryuzaki and his thoughts and concentrated on the laptop. He had to make an analyses of Kira’s actions, find the victims, analyze their causes of death. Make sure that he didn’t leave any mistakes.

Before, Kira’s actions didn’t shine with originality and he methodically found the names of the criminals who died from a heart attack, but right now he had to find the right ones in a chain of strange suicides and accident—find the pattern, exclude accidental coincidences, find paths that connected them to Kira. Light was the right one for the job.

Starting up the search for the summary of the criminal deaths in the last 24 hours, he started methodically sorting the data, forming tables for analysis. His brain tracked the names, checking this with his perfect memory, momentarily satisfied with his own creativity. Sometimes, when he was met with an extremely gruesome death, like a criminal who was caught in a broken lift, which spread him on the wall of the shaft, Light cringed, trying to remember how something like this came into his head.

Accident, suicide, suicide, accident… homicide.

Light nearly missed this small collapsed notice, but something caught his attention. No, murder of criminals wasn’t something rare. In the willpower of their lifestyle, quite a lot of them and quite often became victims of other’s crimes. Divisions of territories between mafiosi groups, murders in a drunk fight, revenge of drug dealers—those and many other news were always filling the police’s database. But right now, Light, with some sixth sense, perfected due to his long fight with Ryuzaki, felt that forgotten feeling again. A feeling of danger. Nearly untouchable, but still able to be felt. Something with this murder wasn’t right. Light opened the detailed information.

Leon Langolfo. Arrested in Spain on charges of rape and murder of an underage girl. Let go due to lack of evidence. Migrated to Japan, hiding from the revenge of her relatives, five years ago. Lead a model lifestyle, participated in charity. Had a small, private gas station on the edge of Tokyo. This night he was burned alive in front of his own house. On the photograph a completely burnt corpse sat in an unnatural pose, leaning on the wall of the house with his back and straightening out his legs. Despite that, the wall of the house was nearly untouched, only a little blackened. Police experts found traces of fire foam on the wall, like the goal of the criminal was to stop the spreading of the fire and while waiting for the victim to burn he poured the foam from the fire extinguisher on the wall behind the dying body. That’s it. No witnesses, no evidence, no motive, no suspects. 

Light read the report again and again. He couldn't understand why this small feeling of danger wouldn’t leave him. Yes, this was a strange crime-really strange. Probably if he worked in the investigation department, he would grab onto this case with interest. Maybe even L would be a little interested in this strange behavior of the criminal. However, the conclusion would be incredibly simple. Some argument between neighbors on the grounds of jealousy. It was probably not worth Kira’s attention and time. Shrugging, Light closed the page, deleting the summary from the list of those who matched the search, and moved on to other reports.

Slowly, the feeling of anxiety and danger which was caused by the strange murder was gone completely.


	17. Conversation with Ryuk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No way look at this. Alright so if you follow me on tumblr(theredtint) or follow the tag(fic:wishmaster) then you know that I had a lot of things I had to do for the past month and then one of my betas also had things to do. So there wasn't much time to actually get this out. It looks like the fic will be about 96-97 chapters long. So...thats gonna take us awhile.

In the evening Light dropped by his house, took a shower, changed clothes and had a small talk with his mother and sister. The feeling that it was wrong to leave the clinic didn’t leave him, that it was necessary to stay, despite how uncomfortable it was to tell Watari that he was scared to leave Ryuzaki for too long. At night it was Watari’s position to be with the detective, like an unsaid rule and Light didn’t dare argue with it. But he couldn’t get any relief because of his dream. The dream in which Ryuzaki asked him not to hold on. What if it was the truth? What if Ryuzaki is still here only because Light doesn’t want to, can’t, let him go, can’t accept his disappearance? Then, at any moment, when Light isn’t there, the genius could leave. Slip through his hands. 

Disappear. Leave him forever, completely erasing the traces of his existence in this world. Leaving only foggy memories of that time when next to Light was a close person, able to understand, able to think and feel just like him. When there was an enemy and a friend in the same face. Soulmate, unique, only due to the lucky turn of fate crossing his path. 

_‘Kira,’_ thought Light. _‘Kira can ground him. L wouldn’t dare to leave the world, to which he is so desperate to bring justice to, alone with Kira.’_ He had to continue. Had to punish and destroy. Just so he could keep the one who wanted to destroy him.

Because of that, despite the fact that he, more than anything, wanted to be in a different place, he went to Misa. To use the notebook again.

Once he came to the apartment he was met with a surprise. Splayed out, contrasting the pastel pink blanket on the king sized bed, was Ryuk. Seeing him, Light suddenly felt happy. It seemed that he really had missed the annoying Shinigami. 

“Hi, Ryuk.” Smiling a little with the corners of his lips, he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Long time no see, Light.” The frozen grin on Ryuk’s face seemed rather friendly to Light right now. “I see that you’ve been missing me?”

“Don’t even think that.” Light chuckled. “I am glad that I got rid of you. To be honest, I was a bit exhausted by your constant babbling.”

“Same old Light.” With obvious satisfaction, Ryuk stretched out, inspecting Light. “But still, you changed. Looking worse. Got tired of killing or you miss your enemy?”

“Ryuk, what nonsense are you saying!” Immediately interrupted Misa, who had just returned to the room from the kitchen. “How could Light miss that gross Ryuzaki? Light is just really tired, he needs to do so much! Now no one is in our way, right, Light?” 

“Yes, Misa. No one is going to stop us now,” Light tiredly confirmed.

He noticed what curiously Ryuk was looking at him with. It was certain that he couldn’t wait to ask him all about how he was feeling and why he still hadn’t ended this battle with Ryuzaki. Ryuk was a fan of digging through people’s minds—he found humans rather amusing creatures. But Light also had quite a few questions to ask Ryuk. So he was frantically trying to figure out where he could send Misa so he and Ryuk could be alone. Talking with her there was impossible. The problem was, however, that Misa, missing Light, didn’t leave him for a second now. So the decision was to postpone the conversation. Luckily Misa had a shoot in the morning and she had to get enough sleep. With that in mind she quickly suggested to go to sleep and found out that Light wasn’t going to go to bed at the same time as her. Light patiently explained that there was too much work to be done and there was less and less time for the notebook. In the end, Misa pouted, but wished Light and Ryuk a good night and left for bed.

Light sat behind the table and, while listening the TV with the evening news, filled in the names in the notebook. Behind his back, looking over his shoulder, floated Ryuk. Just like in the beginning, before the meeting with L. But with a heavy weight on his chest he felt that between the past and present there was a huge abyss and there was no way to step over it. Kira was not certain in his justice anymore. He didn’t feel that he was better than other simple mortals. Didn’t feel that he was like a God. Writing down names, Light didn’t feel the drunken excitement of a fate creator. Couldn’t catch that pleasant mood which usually occurred when he did this. Plans of the New World didn’t interest him anymore. Worse than all that, he couldn’t even feel anger towards those whom he sentenced to death. No matter how closely he tried to listen to the news, to imagine all those heinous crimes that they had committed, he felt nothing. Nothing. Like this was a technical routine on the level of brushing your teeth. His thoughts kept circling back to the hospital room.

“You aren’t too happy about your victory, huh, Light?” Ryuk lost his patience first, breaking the silence. “Are you really regretting killing your friend?” 

“He was not a friend.” Light said as calmly and dispassionately as he could. “He was an enemy.”

“That why are you not leaving him for even a second?”

Light sharply turned around and stared at Ryuk.

“How do you know? Are you spying on me?”

“I am not spying on you.” Ryuk turned to Light with his back and started to boringly inspect the wall closets. “Just checking in from time to time. You are more interesting than other people.”

“Ryuk.” Light stood up and walked around Ryuk, standing in front of him and trying to catch his eyes. “You can’t watch me in the human world. You have to be with the owner of the notebook and yours is with Misa.”

“That is right.” Ryuk flew over to the window, avoiding eye contact with Light. 

Light walked up to him again.

“Tell me, what changed? Misa is complaining that you are never around. And you are spying on me. But before you couldn’t leave the owner of the notebook. Did the rules change? Or is there something else about the notebook that I don’t know?”

“Rules didn’t change,” grumbled Ryuk, looking out the window. 

Light watched him carefully, not looking away. It was quite some time before Light understood that Ryuk never lied, but if he didn’t want to reveal information, he could hide some facts. Not say things. Kira frantically went over the events of the past few days in his head. If the rules of the Death Note didn’t change that meant that there was something that was not written down, and which left open opportunities for things to develop. Or there was someone who could write in changes. Inspecting everything that happened, starting with Ryuzaki’s heart attack, Light thought to the moment when he didn’t find Rem’s notebook in the pile of ashes which was left from her. Shinigami has to be next to the notebook even if it’s in the hands of a human. But if you suppose that a Shinigami has two notebooks. What happens then? Does he get certain freedom, ability to leave one of the owners?

“Ryuk,” he called out.

“Huh?” Ryuk finally looked away from the window and at Light.

“It was you who took Rem’s notebook, right? That’s what lets you leave Misa?” Light asked, staring right at him. 

“Hahaha!” Ryuk laughed, obviously satisfied with something. “I forgot how quickly you think, Light! Yes, I took it.”

“But wasn’t it supposed to be left to me? I killed her. That means that you were allowed… to break the rules. Your King? For what services?” Light narrowed his eyes. “What did you do to deserve that?!” 

“Those are our internal things… humans shouldn’t get involved,” grumbled Ryuk, turning away from Light again.

“Answer me, Ryuk.” Light didn’t give up.

“I said everything I can, Light.”

Light silently turned away and sat down at the desk, starting to ignore Ryuk completely. He knew that the Death God also had questions he wanted to ask him and that his curiosity wouldn’t let him be silent. That meant that there was no need to hurry. If Ryuk didn’t want to say something, he wouldn’t say it, but Light already understood that in a conversation with Shinigami, straight forward pressure often didn’t give the best results. Sometimes it was enough to just wait. 

They spend quite some time in the silence. Kira, slowly, methodically wrote down names in the notebook, writing out accidents and suicides in great detail. He was not ready to change the behavior yet. It was only today that in the headquarters, by the stretched connections and with the power of all the detectives, they were able to convince him that the theory of Third Kira is the main one that they should be working on. And Light, after long arguments, accepted it, giving an opportunity for his puppets to move in the right direction. In the direction which allowed him to express all his pain. Be a tyrant. And at the same time not be afraid to ruin his precious image—the image of the First Kira. A true and just God, which, now or later, the whole world would accept. 

He can take away the mythical Third Kira any time he wants, making his disappearance look as if it was a death from the hands of the First Kira, who is bringing justice and punishing even his own lost followers. But right now… this fictional character was necessary for him. Mainly so Light would be able to at least somehow take revenge on the world for the fact that the only close person he has is somewhere between life and death right now. So if he comes back, Light had some time to be on the same side with him. If… if he doesn’t come back, Light would be able to destroy this world, hiding his mask of Kira under the mask of another Kira. 

He heard rustle of wings behind his back. Light, without even turning, smiled with a thin, victorious smile. Less time had passed than he had expected. 

“Light,” Ryuk quietly called out. “Why were you trying to save your enemy? Didn’t you dream of killing him?” 

Light half turned to him and, placing his arm on the back of the chair, looked over. 

“Are you disappointed?”

“No, I am intrigued,” answered the shinigami, hovering in front of him. “You are impossible to predict. So different from other people.”

“You should be satisfied, Ryuk.” Light smirked. “Because this gives you an opportunity to lessen your boredom.”

“That’s true,” agreed Ryuk. He waited a moment and understanding that Light had no intention in continuing the conversation, repeated himself. “So why did you try to save him?”

“Those are our internal, human things. Shinigami shouldn’t get involved,” Light answered sarcastically. Passing and seeing the shocked God of Death, he continued. “I’ll answer you and am even ready to try and explain if you answer my question.”

“Why I got the second notebook?”

“No.” Light waved his hand dismissively. “I am not too interested in that. I keep my memories as long as the Death Note which belongs to me is in the safe. Also, I have Misa’s notebook so I can keep on punishing. So in that regard I am not losing anything. I am interested in why Rem’s notebook didn’t work? Why did Ryuzaki not die instantly, like all the others.”

“That’s a difficult question,” sighed Ryuk.

“So answer it,” Light argued. “Your question is not any easier but I promise that I’ll try to answer it honestly.”

He listened to what Ryuk told him closely. In reality he wasn’t even surprised. What he expected was something along the same lines. Intervention from supernatural forces. Ryuk only confirmed his suspicions and told some details. Light felt a slight sliver of pride knowing that he was known and popular in the shinigami realm. At the same time he felt a pang at the same pride, understanding perfectly that for the Shinigami he was nothing more than an amusing pet, which was too smart for its own good. But these questions weren’t that interesting at the moment. The main, and the most important question was—why?

“Ryuk, explain to me, why if your King canceled, if that’s what happened, Ryuzaki’s death—why is he still in a coma? Why hasn’t he woken up yet? Why is he still hanging somewhere between life and death? And do you know where exactly he is? Do Shinigami have access there?” Light wasn’t able to stop as he flooded Ryuk with questions. 

“You are surprising me. You never ask that many questions all at one time.” Light didn’t break eye contact. Ryuk sighed and continued. “I don’t know where he is. We don’t know why. For all of us it was a rather big surprise. We are… confused. We were expecting both of you to continue your game. That we would have something to watch.”

Ryuk decided not to go into detail about what unrest is in the Shinigami Realm. How confusing—really confused, to the point where it was obvious to everybody—their King. He gifted life, but this was the first time in so many centuries, where but a mere mortal didn’t accept his gift. He didn’t want to come back. Or couldn’t. The King’s authority and authority of the whole Shinigami Word was in unexpected danger. Death gifted life, but the mortal was seemingly dying anyway. It was… it was unthinkable, wrong, impossible. But everything was heading towards that. That’s why Ryuk spent more and more time in the Shinigami world, with the King and a crowd of Shinigami, watching through the mirror how Kira was desperately trying to hold back his enemy, and how he was still, against all logic and laws of their worlds, leaving, dying.

“We think that he just doesn’t want to come back.” Ryuk grumbled finally. “We can’t see him. We hold no power over the ones who are on the line between life and death. Living or dead, they are under our control, but those who are between are unreachable even for us.”

“He ended it,” said Light slowly, looking at the desk. “Yes, Ryuzaki is like that. If he decided that everything is finished, that means that everything is really done.”

Dull sorrow slowly started to numb Light’s thoughts. However he still found power to smile slightly with the corners of his mouth.

“Ryuzaki surprised you even more than I did, right? You couldn’t have expected that turn of events?”

“Yes, he shocked us.” Ryuk admitted slowly. Seeing that Light was getting lost in his thoughts, Ryuk reminded him about their deal. “Light, you promised to answer.”

“Why I was saving him?” Light raised his head and looked right at Ryuk. “Because I understood that without him I am going to turn into you, Ryuk. I’ll have eternal boredom eating me up. I won’t have anyone to talk to. I’ll be left alone—do you understand—alone in the whole world. Like in a vacuum. The only thing that will be left to do is kill, but that doesn’t amuse me. And there will be emptiness. Eternal emptiness tearing me apart from the inside. Cold, loneliness, emptiness and boredom—that is what you are feeling there, in your world,?”

“Yes…” Ryuk looked at him with a strange look. Like he was… empathizing? Light doubted that. Most likely he just understood him. At least someone understood him. “That’s what I feel.”

“But I don’t want to feel that. And L—is my last chance.”

 


End file.
